


Versimilitude

by Enochian_Joke



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Depression, Dissociation, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Rape/Non-con Elements, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-23 23:46:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8347546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enochian_Joke/pseuds/Enochian_Joke
Summary: Set right after the end of season 10:Castiel struggles to recover from Rowena's spell while his past and uncertain present catch up to him. However, The Darkness is a looming presence, beginning to weigh on all of them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not my first fic, but my first time posting. 
> 
> I've done a bit of a small Megstiel fix it fic for the end of every season since season 8 (because Meg is totally still alive and Castiel and her are a banging couple), which is the basis of this one as well. However, this time a fix it fic turned into a huge depressing beast of a fic and ended up centering on Castiel. It is what it is lmao.
> 
> Hopefully it's at least readable.

Castiel was situated in an old warehouse close to the brothers' bunker. He'd ran there mindlessly, glimpses of what had just occured flashing in his memory, disjointed, unreadable. Perhaps they weren't even real.

His hand stung from the strong grip he'd had on his angel blade which he no loner held. More than that, he had no idea of where he'd dropped it. He didn't mind it though, everyone seemed to have one these days. Surely if he looked past the bushes and trees outside of this place, he'd find one.

No, the lost blade wasn't the problem. What he might have done with it was. Flashes of him using it on someone shone brightly through an incredibly strong headache. He rubbed his forehead, knowing it would do no good. Sighing, he let his head lean on the cold metal wall and his shoulders relaxed a fraction. Whatever it was that had possesed him, he was no longer under it's power. Castiel had a feeling that he wasn't even supposed to still be alive, although he didn't know why that was.

He rubbed his head again, sighed, rode out the flashes as much as he could. Soon, he succumbed to exhaustion, falling down on the dusty floor. Shivering in cold sweat he slept but, thankfully, didn't dream.

***

Castiel woke up to a wet cloth that must have once been cold, now with warm water sliding down onto his cheeks and into his eyes. It hardly mattered, seeing as how he was covered in his own sweat as well.

Sound of the lighter clicking and a cigarette being inhaled settled his wandering gaze on the person next to him. Unmistakable scent of menthol entered his nostrils and he knew, against all odds, that it was Meg sitting right next to him.

„Meg...“ He whispered through a sore throat. „...it's dangerous for you, to be so close to the bunker.“

He thought she might have smirked, but everything was so hazy and no matter what he did he couldn't focus his eyes on anything for long.

„You know, you always tell me I should be careful, and you tell me this and that is dangerous for me, and yet somehow, you're always the one who needs my help. Did you ever think of that?“ Meg drawled out smartly, taking a long draw from her cigarette.

Castiel couldn't do much but nod to that, the inescapable reality of his plentiful misfortunes weighing heavily on him. He didn't know if he should apologize or be thankful Meg was even there in the first place, so he settled for saying nothing. He was falling into another sleep as it was.

***

The next time Castiel woke up it was to a sunny day, light coming through a small window above him. Immediately he shot up, looking nervously this way and that, instinctively reaching for the angel blade that was no longer in his possession.  
„Calm down Clarence, it's just birds and trees out there.“ He heard Meg say and then saw her get into the warehouse, locking the door behind her nonetheless, renewing the protective symbols across the indoor side of the gates.

Castiel relaxed just enough to tame the hypervigilance, but he stayed tense, his head incessantly pounding, as though this human brain was trying it's best to burst through his skull like a bomb. 

„It will take some time for you to feel better given that you're supposed to be six feet under right now.“ Meg said, matter of fact. Only then did Castiel notice what she was holding in her hands.

„This...should help. Maybe. We'll see.“ 

It was a bowl of what was now red liquid. It wasn't human blood, but it was somebody's blood. Castiel was about to ask but Meg shushed him and made him drink it. The taste was sour and metallic and the thick liquid strained his throat. He barely swallowed it, but when he finally did, the ache in his head lessened somewhat.

„Thank you.“ He said, breathing deep in relief for the first time in what seemed like days.

„Thank me if you survive the night.“ Was all Meg had to retort with and if there was a bitter tone to it Castiel couldn't point it out because by the time she'd said the last word he was already in deep sleep once again.

***

Castiel did survive that night and was welcomed to another sunny morning. This time it didn't even hurt his eyes to see the bright light shining out of the small window.

Meg, as it turned out, was still by his side and, this time, he confirmed for certain, she looked nervous and on edge as though she really did think he wasn't going to wake up. Immediately he pulled himself up into a sitting position and hugged her stiff body. She pushed him away but she did so gently and with a rare warm smile on her pale face.

„Thank you.“ He said in earnest. 

„You really are lucky, you know that?“ Meg said, tapping his shoulder once. „Now get up, we got work to do.“

Castiel didn't ask about it until they were in Meg's new stolen car, way under way away from the bunker and away from the old warehouse. 

„Actually, it's quite good news for me. And I guess for you too Castiel.“ Meg said, pleasure evident in her voice and demeanor.

„I am in need of some good news.“ Castiel said wistfully, weight of not knowing what happened to Dean and not knowing what he'd done just a few days ago heavy on his worn out shoulders.

Meg turned to him and smirked. „I found Crowley's actual bones.“ She said, though she then looked worried, an edge to her still there.

Castiel didn't say anything to that because when Crowley's name was mentioned he got caught in a whirlwind of flashing images, all of Crowley, and himself seemingly rushing towards him, body entirely under someone else's control. 

Knowing this, that he again was overtaken by someone else, made him ill down to his vessels bones and deep into his grace. He doubled over and he felt Meg's car coming to a screeching halt. Meg was saying something but he couldn't hear any of it, all he knew was that he had to get out.

Castiel rushed out of the car and, even though he could feel and see air all around him, all of it was deprived from his vessel's lungs and deprived from him. His head began to hurt again, a blinding white pain behind his eyelids, series of flashing images relentlessly dancing around in front of him even with his vessel's eyes tightly shut. His grace rebelled violently against what appeared to still be working his way inside of him.

Some of it came out when he inevitably vomitted all over the side of the road. There was blood in there too and it didn't seem to stop all the way up until he was heaving out the acrid acid of his vessel's stomach. He woke up in Meg's arms and to a heavy slap.

„Fuck me, but you're really a handful.“ Meg said with some relief once Castiel managed to focus on her and see her clearly.

„I'm...sorry.“ Castiel apologized with difficulty, his vessel's throat sore and his grace aflame.

„Come on, get up. We don't have time for this.“ Castiel felt Meg release him and he understood that it was urgent they move, but he couldn't make his body do much of anything. Meg sighed and picked him up, carried him towards her car and dumping him none too gently into the backseat.

„Saddle up and don't puke, we're almost there.“ She said, moving the car from where she'd stopped with practiced ease and soon they were back on the road, rushing towards a destination Castiel didn't have the energy to ask about. Instead, he focused on following Meg's order and trying his best to calm his stomach down and settle his grace into a low simmer.

They pulled down into a narrow dirt road and drove down deep into the forest before stopping in front of an old shack, not unlike the ones the brothers have been known to use when in a pinch. Castiel felt an unpleasant vibe coming off of the shack but he had to assume it was the demons that must have been waiting for them inside. Who else would Meg be working with?

Indeed, for all his centuries upon centuries of existence, Castiel couldn't have prepared for whom he'd find inside.

First, he saw red, and then he felt flames burning hot inside him, Meg forgotten somewhere on his right, a witch clad in black in front of him, a proud smile on her red lips. 

Castiel rushed towards her before he could even think to stop himself or acquire a weapon. She pushed him down without breaking a sweat. Just as Castiel was about to lose himself again he saw a flash of black boots stand in front of him.

„Touch him again and I will kill you.“ He heard Meg drawl out, toying with her own angel blade.

„Like you could.“ Rowena was confident, but Castiel would sooner, and always, place his bets on Meg, if only for how long she'd survived in their wretched world.

„Either way, we had a deal. This one's here for me, it has nothing to do with you. You don't touch him and he won't touch you and then we can end this.“

Rowena laughed at that, a rotten mock of a laughter, but she did relent. Castiel felt it in his vessel's body and in his grace. All of it was colder now, calmer. He got up and brushed the dirt off of his coat. He glared at Rowena, knowing it would do no good but hardly able to help his useless habits.

„Meg, she's dangerous. We have to leave.“ Castiel said even if he was reasonably sure that no such thing was going to happen. 

„I know. It's fine Castiel, we're all here for one thing.“ Meg said, trying to be reassuring.

„Yes, because your dog over there failed miserably even with me graciously laying it all out for him.“ Rowena said, pointing at Castiel. 

Castiel shivered, ashamed of his fear. Meg frowned and steadied her stance. „You were going to kill both of them.“

„Meg, we need to kill her, now. „ He emphasised. „She can't help us.“ 

„You should listen to your girlfriend, after all, she did save your life. To think she'd go to all the trouble of finding my son's bones just to keep your from dying along with him. What a show of love that is.“ Rowena's voice was oily and disgustingly sweet and her essence was fast making Castiel sick again.

Meg sneered at that, and tucked her angel blade away. „Love is for humans. Now let's all calm down and talk.“

Rowena agreed to that, but Castiel stayed away from her, close only enough to hear their plan. He wanted to keep Meg safe but, most of all, he realized as he felt nausea wash over him, he needed to save himself.

***

Counting escape as too much of a show of cowardice, even for him, Castiel accompained both Meg and Rowena to a place where Meg said she'd stashed Crowley's bones.

It turned out to be yet another unassuming warehouse, six hours ride from where they'd met with the witch.  
Castiel could plainly see how nervous Meg was getting as each hour passed on the long winding roads connecting several backward towns. Rowena sitting next to her could not have made her feel better. Castiel considered placing his hand on Meg's shoulder, to comfort her, to do, something, anything.

But, he didn't want any of that to be open and seen by that witch. Rowena must have known some of what they were to each other but she couldn't know more than whatever truth or whatever lie Meg had told her.

He would not make himself vulnerable again.

With this dedication and a sour taste still ever so present within his mouth and a throbbing pain in his head, Castiel entered the warehouse with them, looking around immediately, spotting for danger that seemed nowhere to be found.

It all seemed so easy. Surely Crowley would know about this, somehow. Perhaps not, if indeed he was as weak and alone as he...

No. Underestimating Crowley was the first step towards failure. Meg had to know that. Rowena certainly had to know that. Then why did he feel both of them losing their nerve as they approached what looked like an old wooden chest?

„It would be funny if the bones were gone, huh.“ Meg commented, perhaps with no need other than to break the tension.

Rowena looked like it would be all but funny to her. As she moved towards the chest so did Castiel, advancing in front of her and opening the thing with no pause to even settle his breath.

The bones were there.

Meg audibly sighed in relief which didn't seem like her to Castiel but then, none of this was entirely normal to begin with. 

Still, the bones were there and Castiel thought that maybe, maybe this time it would all work out for them. No threats were to be seen, they had all the additional supplies. All they had to do was light a match.

But, of course, Rowena didn't say a word. Castiel felt, again, an unbearable need to run away from this place as far as these human legs would carry him or as far as the car had the gas to take them. 

„There's one bone missing.“ She said.

Next thing Castiel saw was a bright flash of light, a violent scream and then another one, as a body was slammed hard into one of the metal crates.

„You told me you had them you little whore!“ Rowena yelled, stalking towards Meg, knowing she couldn't outmatch her or run. 

„Fuck you, they were all there!“ Meg countered, through a mouthful of blood. 

Defiance. At least she hadn't lost that. But then, Castiel had lost more than his fair share of traits over the years. Perhaps that is why running the other way was the first thing he thought of, and only after discounting that did he rush Rowena, with no weapon, and really, no strength to carry him through it.

Rowena threw him all the way onto the crate at the other end of the room from which he flopped uselessly onto his ass. If he wasn't an angel he would have broken his spine although even so, he couldn't just stand up and fight.

Through murky eyes he saw that Rowena didn't make a move on Meg but was instead yelling incessantly about their deal and how little time they had to make it happen. Castiel felt a passing sense of indifference.

It was all so much alltogether. Crowley seemed indestructible. Like a cockroach he always crawled out of places you would least expect and run to hide into others. Castiel's mistake from the moment he became God, maybe his biggest mistake, was letting Crowley crawl away thinking he could use him, control him, subude him in other ways. 

No. Castiel was the only one who was continuously used and subdued by others. So many different beings in and out of his head, toying with him, making him question the reality of things around him, losing himself in their stories. Metatron was both right and wrong about him. He wasn't a hero certainly, but he wasn't a villain either. He was just a tool for other beings' gain. 

He thought that, maybe, even this wasn't real. Meg working with Rowena. It was ridiculous, after all, Meg knew demons and witches like the back of her hand. She would never trust a witch to make a deal with her.

Castiel concluded that Metatron must be toying with him again. For all he knows, for all he can sense with how diminished he'd become, he was still in that chair, waiting for death, for whomever would give it to him, oblivion even, anything other than consciousness. Being conscious was overwhelming.

Sleep seemed like the best option but, even if it didn't, even if he'd had the strength to get up and fight for Meg in this bizarre dream, this body and his grace, they didn't ask him what he wanted either.

***


	2. Chapter 2

„Please tell me your goddamn spell didn't fuck him up for good.“ 

Meg's voice floated from somewhere up above him. Down there was nothing. Left and right, nothing either. 

„Oh he'll be fine. Just give it a couple of days.“ 

***

Couple of days was a gross understatement because, when Castiel did finally wake up again, he found more than a week had passed and he was no longer surrounded by smell of menthols and sulfur.

This time, he was in a place he thought he would rather die than go back to. One of many places, to be exact, he thought he would rather die than go back to.

„Cas...hey Cas...you ok?“

Dean. It was Dean. It couldn't have been him. He couldn't possibly be back there. 

„Cas...“

And Sam was there, somewhere in the room where he couldn't see him. Of course. Maybe this was his Heaven after all, maybe he finally died. Maybe this was where God thought he belonged. After what he did to his chosen Heaven, of course they would tailor one for him. Except, he didn't think he had a soul to send to Heaven in the first place. The only other option being Hell or, more likely, nothing, Castiel shot up through force of fear alone and ended up butting right into Dean.

„Dude wow.“ Dean said, clasping his shoulders and putting him back down onto the soft bed.

„Dean...“ Castiel murmured, losing his previous train of thought to undeniable consciousness.

„Yeah Cas, I'm here. Sam's here too. You're gonna be fine.“

Talking of bizarre, Dean being there and talking like that, it must have been a very deliberate concotion of some higher being. 

„My head hurts.“ Castiel said, instead of divulging the myriad of reasons as to why he was in pain.

„Sam's looking into that. You'll be fine Cas, I promise.“

Well, at least this Dean sounded sincere. Castiel was doubtful that their efforts were going to amount to much, as it was beginning to look like Rowena's spell wasn't going to let him off easy, or even at all. He might have just been slow at dying. That spell was strong to begin with, controlling an angel, a weak one, but still. 

Distantly he recalled Meg's words and her worry and immediately her name sprung from his lips. Through the fogginess around his eyes he saw Dean frown and bite his lip as though he was keeping himself from punching something. Castiel thought he might let Dean beat him up again if it would speed up this unfortunate process of dying.

„She's gone. But, she brought you here. We...thanked her. Let her go, don't worry.“

And to that, Castiel felt as though someone did punch him. Punched all the air out of this fragile human lungs.

„You let her go alone?!“ He got up swiftly to go...to get Meg.

Dean's voiced complaints accompained him as he stumbled out of bed, bumping into Sam this time, who held him as he fell, dropping as he did, what looked like a glass of water.

„Cas goddamn it.“ Dean cursed somewhere behind him.

„You let her go alone. She's not safe. You are not doing this to her again.“ Castiel demanded, trying and failing to get out of Sam's grip.

„What do you mean, again? And besides, she can take care of herself.“ Dean countered, annoyance so very clear in the brutal grunt of his voice.

Finally this Dean sounded more like reality and less an impractical delusion someone else made into a reality.

„You left her to die and now you're doing it again by keeping her away from me.“ Castiel explained, scathing, intent on letting them finally know that he knew, and he was not letting it go down the way it did then.

But, as reality of Dean's impatience grew so did the tone of his voice. 

„She left you here because you were getting in her way. You would have gotten her killed probably sooner than if she was alone with how weak you are. You're in no shape to help anyone.“ Dean said. Strong and firm, just as he should be.

Castiel sighed to that. He thought he might have to find time to discern where and why those strange feelings were coming from, passing through him, so deft in making him give up so easily. Perhaps it was that he was just too weak. Weak to handle Meg and too tired to handle himself.

„You...you...“ He muttered nonetheless, direction and anger both lost on him as he slumped into Sam's waiting arms. 

Sam, at least, had yet to say anything to him.

***

Castiel didn't have to wait terribly long for Sam to speak to him though, as he was the one beside him when he next woke up.

It seemed that lately it was just a cycle of falling alseep and waking up. Castiel halfway expected to wake up in a completely different story next time, that is, if Metatron ever got tired of torturing him with this one. He was getting so much better at what was reality and what was not, he had to give him that.

„Cas...how are you feeling?“ Sam asked once Castiel opened his eyes to find him sitting next to his bed.

„Bad.“ Castiel said, having no strength to verbalize the complexities of what it was he was feeling.

„Meg is going to be fine. We told her...we told her she could come visit you once she's out of harm's way.“

Castiel now doubted Sam even knew what Meg was doing and whom she was working with. Meg was always a good liar when she had to be, against all odds, and her intrinsic need to divulge the taunting truth in that beautiful sweet voice of hers.

„Don't talk about her.“ Castiel simply said, and then: „Do you have...water?“

Sam took a moment to still himself before he nodded and got up to get to the glass of water, placed neatly on the dresser on Castiel's far right. He extended it to Castiel, who took it, finding his hands were shaking. He almost dropped it so Sam took it from him. He helped him get up and placed the edge of the glass to Castiel's mouth.

Castiel drank one small sip before his stomach started turning. 

„That's enough, thank you.“ He said, placing himself back into a lying position. He wondered as he did it whether he would be able to get up again.

At least he had Sam there to help him up, in case they needed him for something. Surely he could still at least be a live sock puppet or a flesh and meat shield in case of a battle. He felt a chuckle coming on at that, thinking of himself either talking in place of one of the brothers or having a barrage of bullets or magical spells destroy his borrowed body, so he let it out. 

„What's up?“ Sam asked, tone, Castiel discerned, amused.

„I had a funny thought.“ Castiel responded honestly, having seen no reason not to, as long as he didn't have to explain it further.

Thankfully Sam didn't demand to know, so Castiel settled into yet another incoming cycle of deep sleep.

 

***

Castiel woke up exactly three days later. He felt like he could finally breathe in deep the air that he didn't need. His head didn't hurt anymore, his stomach seemed to be in order, and finally he felt some strength in his limbs.

He got up, finding himself alone in the room. 

For a very short second panic washed over him, thinking this to be a dream, or that it might have been death. It was so quiet.

Something propelled him to walk though, so he did, because he could, and he found himself in the most obvious place. The place in the bunker where it all went on, the main room, with two large tables and heaps and heaps of books everywhere, on the ground and some still settled neatly on the very many shelves.

Dean was there, though he didn't notice him at first, buried in books as he was, seemingly sleeping.

Castiel contemplated waking him up but didn't want his headache to come back should he be met with yelling so he turned to go back to his room. Just as he was about to leave, he heard Dean calling for him.

„Cas!“ 

Dean was up and walking fast towards him, smile on his face.

„You're awake man. I didn't think it was gonna work, but it did. Sam's a genius let me tell you.“

Dean sounded delighted as he said this. He patted Castiel's shoulder and looked him all over, as though checking he was indeed in one piece and there.

„Yes...I...I feel. Better.“ Castiel could hardly believe it himself so his voice bellied that bewilderment. 

Dean hugged him with one arm.

„Let's go get you some coffee, you like it black right?“

Castiel genuinely didn't care at that point what type of coffee he drank but he followed Dean to the kitchen anyway. 

It was only there, under the harsh white fluorescent light that he properly noticed how tired Dean looked. Bags under his eyes were prominent and the movement of his body sluggish. He couldn't have slept more than an hour or two. For humans that was almost as if he didn't sleep a all and, given how prone Dean was to nightmares, it couldn't have been a restful night.

„You...you helped Sam find a cure for me.“ Castiel said, searching for ways to discern Dean's reason for not sleeping, and there really could have been many other reasons or additional more alarming reasons.

„Yeah...it was...well, it was sort of a joined effort.“ Dean answered with barely hidden good-will, even as he struggled to arrange their two coffees. „But Sam, he figured it out in the end, as he always does.“

„What was it?“ Castiel's curiosity was peeked, although he found it came with much trepidation.

„Well, it wasn't simple, but this bunker man...it's got some stuff we didn't expect to find and what we didn't find here we sort of networked around. There are some people still alive who want to help us, believe it or not.“

Dean said this to him with his back turned, tone somewhat jovial. When he turned around to look at Castiel, his expression was solemn. Castiel noticed his shoulders slouching slighty.

„Cas I...how many times will this be if I apologize again? Should I even say anything...do you want...what do you want...how can I...“

Dean sounded incredibly insecure and it took Castiel some time to figure out what Dean was talking about. When he did finally figure it out he was assaulted with images almost as bad as the ones that flashed before his eyes when he was rousing in and out of sleep of that goddamn witch's spell.

Castiel struggled to understand if time did shift for him or if he really felt the pain in his face, and in his body, in that very moment.

„It's...it doesn't matter, it's over.“ He said, uncertain of if words could do anything, knowing they'd barely ever done anything for him when he was the one apologizing.

Castiel could have sworn Dean's eyes watered in the seconds he looked at him before Dean turned away, hand clasped into a fist, pressing onto his mouth.

„Either way I...I am sorry. There's nothing else I can say.“ He paused and Castiel waited.

„The mark it's...it's gone now but...I think we fucked up Cas, big time. Again.“ Dean said, still deliberately looking away.

The mark. Of course. Castiel would berate himself for forgetting about it if he could soberly say that he hadn't just spent maybe a month struggling to remain conscious. It seemed to have been more than that, but who knew anymore.

The brothers had probably unleashed something evil again, fighting for their own survival. Castiel couldn't rightly blame them, whatever it was that they made happen. It was no longer his right, if it ever was. It wasn't.

„It's fine Dean, we'll take care of it.“ He said instead, unwilling to compete in the blaming which they did, he'd think, almost as much as apologizing to each other.

„Man. I'm so glad you're back.“ Dean said suddenly, sitting across from Castiel. 

Castiel felt something like warmth spread through him and it felt good. After feeling very much on the brink of death, it was as welcome as anything.

„Thank you Dean. I'm glad I'm back too.“ If there was doubt in those words, Castiel hoped it remained undetected.

 

***

„But, tell me Dean, what did you use for the cure?“ Castiel asked, because, if Meg had made him drink somebody's blood and it didn't work, he shuddered to think what sort of things Sam and Dean had to acquire to relinquish the spell's hold on him.

„So you aren't gonna let that go huh?“ Dean asked, visibly amused.

Castiel didn't respond to that but he didn't have to. 

„It was actually just run of the mill stuff, Sam figured out the mix which was the hard part, and I mixed the ingredients which was the second hard part. If we got one thing wrong it wouldn't have worked. I...since I cook and stuff...you know, it was...uh, easy, for me.“ 

Castiel smiled at that, probably his first smile in a long while. Of course he knew Dean could cook, he did it for Sam, for what Castiel guessed, most of their lives. It was a great skill for humans to have.

„Thank you Dean. I thought I wasn't going to make it this time.“ 

Saying this, Castiel couldn't look at his friend and he questioned the reasons why he always seemed to be more open around Dean, as though he could tell him anything when saying nothing would have, in many past situations, have been more prudent. 

„You always make it Cas.“ Dean simply said, somber in tone.

„Yes. And I don't understand why.“ 

To this Dean's expression lightened and those eyes captivated Castiel once again as Dean searched for Castiel to focus on him. And Castiel did, as he always had.

„It's because you have people who care about you. We can't just let you go.“ Dean said, imploring him, Castiel could tell, to believe him.

Castiel hardly had faith in anything these days and his own rocky relationships confused and hurt him more often than not. Having Dean still put so much faith in him in turn probably hurt even more. He was next to useless lately after all.

„I appreciate your efforts.“ He said, opting to be maleable instead of being honest. Dean didn't need to hear any further thoughts of his doubt. He had more than enough on his plate, as he always did and, Castiel feared, as he would continue to have.

He thought that, more than likely, the brothers wouldn't have peace even in death.

Castiel looked to Dean then, again, and saw that perhaps his tone of voice did not match what he'd said because Dean was looking at him with a deep frown. 

„Cas...“ Dean nearly whispered his name as though anything louder would be too alarming or impossible to get out.

„I know what it's like to...to feel the way you do.“ Dean said once he managed some control over his voice. 

Castiel couldn't argue that but continuing this conversation, he knew, would be detrimental to his efforts to keep Dean out of the loop of the reality of his situation. If Dean knew the scope of what was going on in Castiel's head he might pity him or, more devastatingly, not let him get as far away from them as possible once he got his strength back.

„I'm fine Dean. I won't do anything to myself, you don't have to worry.“ Castiel said, trying and possibly failing at being convincing.

Dean saw through him, of course, as he always did. But, strangely, he didn't push any further. He got up to take their two cups of coffee that they'd had yet to drink and poured something that looked like an alcoholic drink into his own cup.

„Want some of this?“ Dean asked, turning to him.

„It probably won't do anything for me, but yes, go ahead.“ Castiel said, thinking that, at least, if they got drunk together, or if Dean got drunk, they wouldn't have to talk anymore.

As it turned out, Castiel once again misunderstood the inevitable conclusion that heavy drinking has on humans. While he himself felt only a small twinge after half a bottle of some kind of whiskey, Dean finished a bottle of his own and, instead of falling asleep, he said this:

„If you harm yourself Cas I will be so pissed at you.“ 

Before Castiel could argue that it was none of his business Dean continued on the same tangent, slurring some of his words in the process.

„I know you probably don't get it...'cuz you're an angel...but I'd think that...I'd think that...uh.“ Dean shook his head slightly, trying to speak and failing.

Castiel was about to get up to leave, having become increasingly very uncomfortable, but his body wouldn't move. Cursing the fact that he couldn't just fly away, he stayed, and prepared himself for a barrage of words that might or might not make sense, but that would solidify how horrible he felt.

„Uh...with how long you've stuck with us you'd know...you'd know how I...how we feel about you.“

To this Castiel looked up, sensing a degree of actual importance in those words. Dean didn't continue however.

„I know it don't matter...when you feel the way you do...it don't matter if you're loved or if you're hated...you just wanna go ya know...go.“

Dean's eyes were so painfully glaized over but there was no way Castiel would be able to look away. He felt as though those same eyes could turn him to stone and keep him there forever.

„But...don't, don't go Cas. Don't...“ 

Dean looked away first, thankfully. Castiel downed the remaines of the whiskey in his glass and, determined to end this conversation, he got up.

„Dean, you should go to sleep.“ He said, hoping Dean would listen.

Surprisingly, he did, so Castiel accompained him to his room, settled him into the bed and left.

Castiel went to his room. He thought about just up and leaving, but he found he couldn't do it. Even though he worried immensly about Meg, he still ended up in the bed of his borrowed room.

He knew it was impossible, but he could swear his feet had turned to lead. All of his body felt thousand times heavier and his head felt like it could roll off of his neck at any moment. There was a tight feeling in his chest. He couldn't breathe.

Air was all around him, as it always was, but his chest didn't seem to know that. Or his brain didn't. Or his grace didn't. All of him felt simultaneously stretched thin and rolled into a tight bowl of strings. 

Castiel thought about what Dean said while clutching his chest in an effort to not choke even though he knew damn well that it wouldn't work.

He thought about how for most of his existence after meeting Dean he felt overwhelmingly either fight or flight due to how incredibly strong his emotions had become. It felt like a storm contained inside a small and vulnerable vessel that blew up often and then mended itself equally as often.

He wondered why he couldn't just stay dead.

What did people do when they felt like this? Castiel knew for certain that they did and, even before Dean told him he knew how he felt, Castiel was aware of how Dean also had a very metaphorically thin rope keeping him alive.

Castiel couldn't get drunk enough to combat this feeling. He couldn't swallow pills and go to sleep. He couldn't do anything people did when they felt as though if one more second passed they would burst apart and disappear.

It bothered him that he was scared either way, of living and of disappearing. He knew it was only a matter of which side the scales tipped if indeed, at some point, they did. 

Parts of him wanted to just stay with Dean. Stay with him and listen to him and do what he said and exist once again in the comfort of willful ignorance, but by his own choice, even if it was the last choice he'd ever make.

He knew he couldn't do that though. Content himself with a life of servitude was no longer an option and Dean wouldn't take it even if he liked being listened to. There was also Meg, who was out there, alone with that witch, and allies growing thin by the day. Lending himself to a complacent existence would ensure that she fought by herself when, no matter what happened to him, he had to keep her safe.

Somehow, this line of thought managed to relax his lungs enough for him to no longer feel so trapped. He still had a purpose in this life and he could still help. He had to help, what else whas he alive for?

They would fight and they would win or they would die. Either way he would no longer feel so scared, if he just fought like he did before.

With this feeble resolution in mind, Castiel resolved to try and sleep these feelings off. Sleep, however, didn't come.

***


	3. Chapter 3

Next morning Castiel left a note on Dean's desk in the common room telling him he had to go and find Meg. He had no more time to waste and, he feared, that if he did stay in the bunker any longer he might not even be able to find her at all.

So he left, hoping against reason, that Dean and Sam wouldn't follow him.

He walked a distance to the first gas station where he stole some random person's car and then drove knowing very little of where he was supposed to go. Once again he felt annoyed at how weak he'd become. He couldn't sense anything anymore, let alone where Meg was.

Castiel drove for an hour before he managed to locate a lone phonebooth. Having ridiculously little money given that he didn't want to steal from the brothers, he used up all of what he had for a phone call to Meg's phone. Anxiety bubbled up inside his chest when the phone kept ringing with no answer on the other side.

Seconds seemed like minutes but then, finally, he heared her bored drawl of: „What is it Castiel?“

Casual aggravation in Meg's voice angered Castiel somewhat but there was no time for him to challenge her on it.

„Where are you?“ He asked instead.

Meg sighed and then whispered something to whomever was there with her.

„I can't tell you that.“ She said.

Castiel cursed his inability to transport himself right then and there to wherever she was.

„Tell me where you are.“ He demanded, knowing their call would end soon.

Meg didn't seem to be in an equally urgent mood because she took her time answering. Each moment Castiel grew more restless and more concerned than he felt he had the strength to be.

Meg finally told him where to meet, and then promptly hung up.

Castiel let out the breath he'd been holding in some relief. The place Meg chose to meet him was not far away from where he already was so there was less of a chance something would prevent them from meeting. 

They met at an old abandoned wodden shack in the woods where Meg had apparently situated herself some time ago. There were protective sigils everywhere so, before Castiel could cross any of them, they had to be broken.

Once they did that, Meg turned to him and shook her head slighty, with a narrow, amused little smile.

„You are something Clarence. I thought brining you to Dean would make you stay there and be safe. Guess I just don't know you all that well.“

„If you thought that then you don't know me, but you didn't. You knew I would come for you.“ Castiel countered, seeing no need to waste time.

Meg seemed to agree. „Yes well, can't blame a girl for trying. Come on in now, I have to repair these once you're in.“

When they were both inside the shack Castiel asked:

„What happened with the witch and the bones?“ 

Meg sat down on a chair beside a small table and motioned for Castiel to join her. He sat down on the opposite end and watched her light up a cigarette. She took a satisfying drag and relaxed into the chair. Her expression though, didn't reflect that same calm.

„Well...once I managed to convince Rowena that I did not lose the missing bone she said that Crowley probably has it. It's the only thing that makes sense. It makes our job a lot harder though.“ Meg explained, sounding exhausted.

„I can...I will get it from him.“ Castiel said, resolute.

Meg looked at him as though his wings had spontaneously repaired and busted from his shoulders. 

„That is the worst idea I've ever heard. Like he'll let you anywhere near him after you almost killed him.“

Castiel strived strenously not to think about that but with all the flashes and Rowena confirming that that was what he was meant to do under her spell, there was no way around it. Thinking about it and realizing that, not even under her spell was he able to kill him, of course he understood how ridiculous it was to go for him. 

„I have to do something to help you.“ He simply said.

Meg smiled and shook her head again. „Why do you have to?“ She asked.

Castiel knew she had to have a pretty good idea why. „Because I want to help you kill him. I want him gone.“

Meg nodded to that and took another drag from her cigarette. „Who doesn't? But it's not that easy. You know he's always steps ahead. We have to think about what to do and when and how. You can't just barge into Hell and take it from him.“

Castiel frowned at that, deeply annoyed. „I wasn't going to just barge in and take it from him. I was going to summon him and make him tell me where it is.“

„That's exactly what Rowena and I plan to do, essentially. Burning of the bones would have been the easy way out, but now we have to change our strategy. We intend to trap him and kill him.“

Castiel was about to counter this but Meg's expression softened and she said: „When this is all over, I will kill her for what she did to you.“

Silence fell upon them either for lack of a thing to say or because Meg was done talking to him and Castiel had neither a will to protest or a significant reaction to express. 

Shortly after, Meg would tell him Rowena didn't want him to know where she was, and that Meg even having brought him to her in the first place had almost destroyed their deal, but that, when the time came to trap Crowley, she would tell him where they were and then they could both take their lives from them.

She put twenty crumpled dollar bills into Castiel's jacket pocket, and wished him luck.

***

Castiel decided to go back to Dean and Sam because wandering around aimlessly, waiting for Meg to call him, wouldn't have done anyone any good. He wasn't terribly keen on going back, nor did he want the misfortune that seemed to permanently follow him to burden them if something were to happen, but there simply was nowhere else to go.

For what seemed quite a long time now there hadn't been anywhere else to go for Castiel, save for Meg, but she was no longer the first or the most immediate option.

Castiel drove back to the bunker, thinking he would probably be met with anger and, entirely unwilling to suffer a barage of yelling, he resolved to buy something alcoholic and something else Dean liked, to at least attempt to distract him from having once again left when he was told not to.

He thought he could easily be annoyed or angry, that his geographical placement would anger Dean in any way, as though he didn't have the right to do whatever the hell he pleased, if he didn't realize Dean's motivations had always more to do with him being left alone rather than his friends or family excercising free will.

Years ago he wouldn't even think to place himself so comfortably into that man's inescapable grip but now, with all that had happened, and the last thing Dean told him before he left, he didn't think that that wasn't the place he was in. It was just that, there was something within him, again that fight or flight response he couldn't understand, that made him want to drive farther and never go there again. He wasn't certain he had the right to mean anything to Dean.

Once he got two bottles of whiskey and a pie from a local gas station, Castiel ventured back onto the winding, seemingly endless, road, tried his best to soothe the inexplicable feeling of trepidation, and drove on towards the bunker.

It was night by the time he reached the bunker and it was Sam who let him in.

„Where the hell were you?“ Sam whispered urgently, stopping him before he entered past the hall.

„I went to see Meg.“ Castiel answered calmly, trying to steel himself into something resembling confidence.

„Man...“ Sam plastered his hand on his forehead in, what Castiel assumed, was frustration. He sighed and then said: „Did you find her?“

Castiel nodded and Sam relaxed a fraction. 

„Is she...she's up to something isn't she?“

Sam asking him this left Castiel momentarily unable to answer, thinking of the most concise and believeable lie, but before he could say anything Sam clasped his shoulder. Castiel looked at it then back to Sam.

„Cas, we can help. Just tell me what's up.“ Sam said, strong, confident, like he tended to be in situations like this.

Castiel would have asked for his help sooner rather than not at all, but this was Meg's game and, knowing how impulsive the brothers could be, they may as well have ruined whatever plan Meg ended up concoting with that witch. 

„It's fine. She can handle it. You have enough problems on your own.“ Castiel said.

Sam swallowed thickly and nodded. „Okay...but if the going gets worse, we are here to help, you know that, right?“ 

Of course. Although Castiel suspected more to help him than to do so for Meg, whom they might still have wanted to kill, Dean at least, if the opportunity presented itself and Castiel wasn't there to prevent it.

„Of course. I know that.“ Castiel opted to say only that, to which Sam seemed pleased enough to let him through the hallways and into the main room.

Dean was there, soaking up more alcohol. Castiel approached the table quietly, bags of groceries in hand. He put them on the table and sat down opposite Dean. Sam backed out once Castiel sat down, gesturing something that looked like „good luck“, before he left the room.

„I got you a pecan pie.“ Castiel said, resolved to break the silence.

Dean looked up, smug, ready to attack. Castiel backed out slightly, to which Dean looked away.

„I'm not gonna yell at you Cas. I'm done. If you wanna leave, you can. I don't even know why you came back.“ Dean said, voice indeed, soft and slightly slurred.

Castiel didn't know how to react to that, much to how he never knew how to react in uncomfortable situations, whether Dean was yelling or ignoring him. It all seemed like a waste of time ultimately, and that, as it seemed, might have been something Dean and he could at that point agree with. Castiel did feel a twinge of pain at that thought, but he didn't let it steer him away as it normally would.

„I came back because I have nowhere else to go.“ He opted to tell the truth this time.

And if Castiel ever needed to confirm the benefits of lying, then Dean's present reaction would have done that for him. 

„Oh...well that sucks for you then.“ After he said that, Dean took three shots of whatever it was he was drinking in a row and then he tried to focus on Castiel, eyes somewhat glazed over.

„You...where do you want to be?“ Dean asked, surprising Castiel with the question to which he couldn't even concieve an answer to. 

„I don't know.“ 

Dean smirked at that and downed another shot. Pointing a finger and still holding the glass in his hand he said: 

„You wanna know what I think? I think you're overwhelmed. You wanna go back to your angel buddies, but they don't want you back. You wanna go after Meg, for what reason I don't even wanna know, but you can't do that either because you're back here. And what, what do you think you're gonna get from being here?“

Castiel frowned at that and didn't pick and choose what he said next.

„I think you're drunk Dean, and might be overreacting.“

Dean laughed, a hearty laugh. But it wasn't happy or joyful. It felt like it was mocking him if anything.

„Yeah...may be. But I'm like that. A real piece of shit. One more reason for you to fuck off.“

Castiel didn't expect to feel anger when he came back. Really, all he expected was to have Dean be mad at him and ignore him until he didn't, or for some reason just accept that Castiel had to check up on Meg. 

„You're right. And I'm not a shining example either. If you want me to leave, I'll leave. If you don't mind me staying, I will be staying for a while.“

Castiel waited for Dean to answer him. Dean, for his part, scoffed and went back to drinking, dismissing him.

„Fine. I'll leave the pie here, so eat it if you want to. I'm going to go to bed.“

***

Castiel knew he wouldn't sleep. The spell had been completely neutralized and he was no longer tired enough. Things like that reminded him that he wasn't human, one thing that he could still hold onto. Amidst everything prepetually going wrong at least he wasn't back to worrying about human neccessities.

Small comfort, but Castiel would take it.

He ended up laying in bed all the way up until the early morning. He wasn't in need of sleep kind of tired, but there was a stubborn exhaustion within him still based, he guessed, purely on how emotionally drained he was. That, he couldn't account by anything other than a human element persisting in him and his kind, following the disruption and eventual destruction of a strongly maintained brainwashing system.

Castiel would never wish to know of it, or to want it, but he felt dejected all the same, that he wished for some amount of numbness to cover his emotions. He wished for that whenever he had a moment to think and, against all odds, those moments kept lending themselves to him.

It was almost as though nothing was yet set in motion when he knew that wasn't the case. Perhaps this was, what the humans called, calm before the storm.

Sensing his thought pattern was only going to get worse, Castiel decided to do his best to get up and see what kind of an atmosphere permeated the bunker now as opposed to last night. He didn't hope for anything in particular, but he wanted it to be lighter, if only because if it wasn't, he didn't think he could sustain himself otherwise.

He walked slowly, but deliberately, towards the kitchen. Coffee was always an option in the morning, even if he didn't exactly need the caffeine. 

Dean was there because of course he was.

„Hello Dean.“ Castiel said by way of greeting. 

It looked like Dean was in the process of fixing coffee, so Castiel sat himself down at the table and waited. For coffee, and for a response. 

Dean placed a cup of coffee in front of him and then left, taking his with him. 

Castiel sighed and laid his head down on his hands on the table. There was an intricate spider web forming in the back right corner of the kitchen. Strange, given Dean's proclivity for cleanliness. Still, it calmed Castiel as nature often did. He considered taking a walk outside, but that probably wasn't particularly safe.

He didn't know how long he stared at it, but at some point he was joined by Sam who was, for his part, in a reasonably talkative mood.

„Hey Cas.“ Sam greeted him, poured some of the leftover coffee, and sat down across from Castiel.

„Good morning Sam.“ Castiel said, lifting his head up to look at him. It was only polite, after all.

„You feeling okay?“ Sam asked.

Whenever Sam would approach him like this, as though they genuinely were friends, Castiel felt somewhat sorry for the way he sometimes talked to him. It seemed like it was a circle between the three of them, of being crass and rude.

„I feel...tired.“ Castiel responded openly, and even if that didn't turn out a favorable response, he couldn't find it in himself to care.

„You couldn't sleep?“ Sam asked, considerate as ever.

„I don't need sleep. The spell's effect on me is done. But, somehow, I still feel exhausted.“ Castiel said, thinking maybe Sam could relate to that, seeing only then that it would have, in part, been because of him.

Just as he was about to retract what he'd said and leave, Sam said:

„Yeah...that sucks. But, we all need a break sometimes. Time to recharge.“ Sam took a cautious sip of his black coffee and continued: „I'm glad you came back.“

Castiel didn't well know whether he was or wasn't, so he opted to change the topic.

„How are you?“

Sam shrugged. „I like to think I'm doing fine but...“ He said, deliberate. „I'm not. And I don't think Dean is doing all that well either. We are both...“

Sam stopped and shook his head, searching for words. 

„We haven't really talked. You know since, since everything happened. We normally never really do, and I think at this point, we have to. But I can't get Dean to stay sober for a day, let alone make him talk.“

Castiel considered this.

„He talked to me. He told me some things when he was drunk and I...I think the two of us need to talk as well. But, I...“

Castiel rarely lacked words, but he supposed it was just that kind of a morning. 

„I'm terrified.“ He said suddenly, not thinking of what it really meant, or if he should say it or not. It just came out. Again, Castiel wanted to turn around and leave, maybe even drive away for a while. He didn't.

Sam looked at him and Castiel recognized that maybe there was sympathy there, in that expression. Admitting he was scared, when was the last time he'd done that?

And then, he couldn't stop.

„I'm terrified that, if I leave this place, someone, something, is going to find me and I will again be used and controlled and made to do things I don't want to do. I'm terrified of this place even. And I'm terrified for Meg. I don't want her to die and there's nothing I can do from here to stop anyone from hurting her. I don't know...I don't know what to do.“

Sam didn't say a word to interrupt him but, even if he'd had, Castiel doubted it would make him discontinue his rant. He had so much in him, so very many things he didn't want to acknowledge and he should have known that is how they would come out. Right there, at that table, in the kitchen of a bunker where he shouldn't have even be allowed in. In front of Sam, whom he'd done, maybe the worst of it all. 

He didn't deserve to be listened to. And yet.

„Cas...“ Sam started, began to reach out his hand to touch him before he pulled back. „I know...I mean, I know some of how this feels. I know fear but I also know that you can always fight it. You have to because, nobody can do it for you.“

„I...I don't know if I can.“ Castiel said and averted his gaze in shame. 

„You can. I know you can.“ Sam said, standing up and extending his arm to clasp Castiel's shoulder.

Castiel looked up and he felt small, not so much because of Sam's height, as because he was caught by Sam's presence and the strength of his soul which had been dragged to hell and back and yet he could feel it, even if he could no longer see it, sustaining itself, repairing itself, overcoming the trauma it's been put through.

For someone who wasn't certain if he even had a soul, it was as terrible as it was inspiring.

„Thank you Sam.“ Castiel found himself saying, and that he even managed that much was a feat of will.

***

„Sam! Cas!“ 

Castiel heard Dean's voice calling for them from where Sam and him had still been sitting, drinking their coffee.

Turning around Castiel saw Dean barge into the kitchen, an expression of urgency on his face.

„That thing that we...“ He gasped through shortness of breath. „That, whatever it is, it's made a move.“

Castiel and Sam were immediately on their feet, following Dean into the main room, where his phone had a caller still on.

„Jody, we'll be there as soon as possible.“ Dean said and hung up, turning back to Castiel and Sam.

„Pack your bags, we have to hurry.“ He said.

***


	4. Chapter 4

They met with Jody in Sioux Falls and, sure enough, Alex and Claire were there with her. Castiel wished he didn't have to have Claire see him in the sorry state he was in but there was no way around it.

Jody greeted them shortly and ushered all of them into her house. Sitting down, she started to explain the strange phenomena happening around where Sam and Dean released what Castiel now understood to be an entity that God locked up even before the Leviathan. Heart racing suddenly, he excused himself to the bathroom and resolved not to think about the looks he recieved in doing so.

Claire, as it turned out, followed suit and caught up with him when they were both out of earshot of the living room.

„Cas...you look like you're gonna vomit.“ Claire said, touching his shoulder.

Castiel felt a laugh coming on but had no energy for it. „Yeah...you could say I've been having some difficulties lately.“

„Lately?“ Claire emphasized, because of course Castiel has been having „difficulties“ ever since he pulled Dean out of Hell.

„Don't worry about me, I'll be fine.“ He decided to be brief about this, but Claire was having none of it.

„Come on Cas, tell me what's up.“ She demanded.

Castiel sighed and placed his hand on his forehead in a habitual display of weariness. „Please Claire, go back to the living room.“

Claire seemed all but placated, though she did end up leaving him alone. Castiel debated leaving right then and there, knowing that the brothers would inevitably want to rush down a creature they aren't, and probably never will, be prepared for, and Castiel would follow suit and get destroyed in the process.

Although, thinking about it, surprising himself at how calm he actually felt laying it all out like that in his head, Castiel considered that maybe this creature had the ability to relieve him of his curse.

He imagined Dean would yell at him for thinking like that which made him immediately cringe and then Castiel got annoyed with himself for even reacting. Following this, the last thing he wanted was to go back into that stuffy room with all the people to whom he had obligations towards and to whom he somehow mattered.

Another thought formed in Castiel's head, against all odds, and it was perhaps a notion that he should tell this to someone and that he indeed still had someone to tell this to who wouldn't send him away. Thinking like this had struck Castiel as juvenile for someone as old as him and he considered that Dean's frequent comments to him about being a child might have had some ground after all.

He imagined Dean would think of this weaknesses of his as childish and Castiel might even make him think he wasn't capable of taking care of himself, which he probably wasn't, but he didn't want it to become something that's definite. Meg certainly didn't have patience for this type of talk either.

Castiel knew he had to go back. If he didn't someone would come get him and then he would feel even more like a child. So he washed his face with cold water and rejoined with the people in Jody's living room and, thankfully without puking, shared what he knew about the entity Sam and Dean so unwittingly released.

As expected, the brothers didn't take the information calmly and it seemed obvious to Castiel that there was going to be a fight later on when they found the time preferring, as they tended to do, to keep their struggle private.

Castiel, for his part, didn't have much to say in the way of comfort. The brothers had released an entity that could end the world successfully and in an instant, and the threat was so real that Castiel wondered how complete destruction of the earthly plane hadn't already happened.

They stayed over at Jody's that night. As it turned out, Jody's house had only a limited amount of rooms, so somebody had to share while somebody else had to sleep on the couch. Dean and Sam decided this by playing „rock, paper, scissors“ which, Castiel knew, definitively ensured Sam would come out victorious except this time it seemed as though Dean finally relinquished his favorite move and ended up winning instead.

Although, Castiel didn't know how pleasing the victory was for Dean, seeing as how he had to share a room with him.

„Come on Cas, let's crash.“ Dean simply said, motioning for Castiel to join him.

They said their goodnight's and moved up to Claire's room. Evidently, she would be sharing the room with Alex for the time being. 

Dean looked amazed at Claire's poster collection and music taste. „I knew it, she's a good kid after all.“ He commented, pointing out a „Led Zeppelin“ poster.

„I fail to see how her music and poster choices determine her goodness.“ Castiel countered, though it was without any of the usual sharpness.

„Trust me Cas, I do know some things.“ Dean said.

For some reason Castiel kept expecting Dean to argue with him and he definitely expected him to not want to share a bed. Somehow none of that was happening. In the end Castiel decided he was tired enough to at least lie down for a while.

„I can move when you go to sleep, just give me a few minutes.“ He said, lying down.

Dean coughed and straightened his back. „Nah...uh, it's fine.“  
„Are you sure?“ Castiel asked.

Dean steeled himself and lied down next to Castiel. „Yeah, whatever.“ He said, turning his back on Castiel, covering himself with the blankets provided.

Castiel didn't sleep and perhaps it was a good thing because when Dean started shaking and sweating from whatever nightmare plagued his dreams Castiel was right there to wake him up from it.

„Cas...“ Dean mumbled, eyes mostly closed. Castiel could feel the sweat on Dean's shirt from where he'd gripped his shoulder and the quiet shakes that still permeated his body.

„It was just a nightmare Dean, you're safe.“

Dean laughed a little at that, exhaustion clear in his heavy breathing, „I am safe, nobody else is, that's the problem.“ Dean said, wiping stray sweat from his forehead.

„Dean...“ Cas began, earnest, but too tired to continue on that thread.

Dean seemed to agree though he didn't go back to sleep, Instead, he got up and searched his duffel bag for what turned out to be some type of cheap whiskey, Castiel guessed.

„That's not going to help.“ Castiel offered.

Dean snorted and took a huge gulp of the liquid. „You're one to talk.“ He took another sip and offered the bottle to Castiel. „Want some?“

Castiel debated this but ended up taking the bottle. If he drank some of it then Dean probably wouldn't be able to drink himself into oblivion. Besides, Castiel could take it. He could drink the whole thing in one sitting and feel almost nothing.

„Must suck so bad, not being able to get drunk anymore. Remember when one beer did you in?“ Dean said, clearly intent on making light conversation. 

Castiel was less than willing to talk about his short period of humanity, preferring most of those memories to stay as far away from his mind as possible but he could extend a hand to Dean, what else was there to do anyway. 

„Yes, well...I do sometimes wish there was a substance for angels that made them forget, something that doesn't involve drilling a hole into our heads.“

Dean choked on the drink when Castiel said this. „Ugh...Cas...“ He made to speak but nothing came out. There was pain in Dean's eyes, but that was only on the surface. Surely beneath it all Castiel must have triggered an unpleasant memory.

„I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that.“ 

Dean thought about this and then he shook his head. „No Cas...you should talk about it, if you need to.“

„I don't. I just made a careless observation. Let's just...try and rest.“ Castiel said, entirely ready to stop conversing.

Dean nodded and put the alcohol away. The rest of the night he slept fine and Castiel was left alone with his thoughts, each one progressively making him more and more nauseous. When the morning came he briefly thought of running away again, but ended up drinking coffee with everyone as though their inevitable deaths weren't right around the corner.

After he'd had his coffee, Castiel excused himself from the breakfast table for some fresh air. He put on his overcoat, though he wouldn't have felt the cold, and sat on a chair on the porch. Sometime later Dean sat next to him. Castiel enjoyed the silence even though it didn't last long.

„You're so lucky you no longer have to sleep. I can only imagine we would both be waking each other up all night.“ Dean said, likely as a joke to lighten the mood or perhaps to make himself feel better about last night.

„I'm afraid that all my nightmares are quite vivid all the same.“ Castiel said.

Dean sported a passing look of hurt before he averted his eyes from Castiel and onto his own cup of coffee. Castiel didn't particularly feel bad enough to apologize or indulge in small pleasantries but as the awkward silence grew he knew he had to say something.

„We all have nightmares. All we can do is go through them and keep moving.“

Dean snorted a very defeated sounding laugh. „Yeah...things just never stop do they.“

„No they don't. Time waits for no one.“ Castiel said and, for some reason, it managed to put a lighter smile on Dean's face.

„You used to be able to bend time, as I recall.“ Dean commented, unnecessarily and entirely too casually.

„Nothing good came of it. Nothing good comes from any type of great power. It consumes you until there's nothing left.“ Castiel retorted, darkly, the very thought of being able to do anything other than exist at that moment overwhelming.

„You stopped the second apocalypse. I wouldn't call that nothing.“ Dean said, suddenly very serious and intent on having Castiel look at him. So Castiel did, as he always had, and found that there was a curious emptiness where he would normally find strength.

„It doesn't matter. Everything has it's end, we only prolonged life before it's inevitable death.“

Dean looked puzzled. „It's not like you to talk like that Cas. Or maybe it is, I'm not actually sure. Either way, we're here now. One day at a time, right?“ Dean offered.

Castiel had no choice but to agree with him. He shouldn't have made it his mission that morning to pull Dean even deeper into his metaphorical hell. If Dean had enough strength to live, at least for another day, then so be it, Castiel would too, for the time being.

They rejoined Jody and Sam and the girls in the living room and talked strategy on how to take on the consequences of the Darkness awakening and all Castiel could think about was how noble and spirited it all was even in the face of futility. He could barely sustain his body's stomach from giving up on him yet again because this was how it always went. Before any of them truly grasped the newest danger from the newest enemy, it was more than easy to be hopeful. Ignorance allowed them to think they had a fighting chance.

Castiel kept on trudging after the Winchesters for weeks after they left Jody's. Back when they were there they figured out that the strange happenings around town was just a couple of stray demons. They dealt with them swiftly and then went around for whatever hunt came next. Castiel assumed that it was good for the brothers to have some distractions, though it also distracted them from any real talk. Castiel noticed how chopped their conversations were. Sam would speak to Castiel and then Castiel would speak to Dean and all of it had only to do with the next hunt and which food they would eat that day. 

All of them, including Castiel, avoided anything that even came close to serious conversation. In the end, they went back to the bunker to properly rest and figure out where to go next.

Claire called three days after they came back, asking to meet Castiel. 

Again, the option of having any choice other than meeting her was only there in theory. Of course Castiel could deny her, and of course Castiel had the right to leave the bunker whenever he wanted. Some choices were just not as readily available or permissible. If Claire wanted to see him, then Castiel had to go.

So he did. They met in an old roadside bar which served only various types of alcohol and peanuts. It also had a pool table and a mini-soccer table. They ended up sitting at an enclosed booth away from the racket of the soccer table and the incessant thumping of the pool table. Castiel ordered a beer and Claire tried but Castiel insisted she just take a plain cup of water.

„You know, I've had beer before. It's not gonna kill me.“ Claire said smartly. 

Castiel frowned. „Well, while you're with me, you're having water. You're too young to drink.“

Claire laughed a little at that and took a sip of her water. „You sounded like a father just now.“ Except this probably made her sad as well because the lightness in Claire's expression faded slightly once she said it. 

Castiel had no way to help with that so instead he asked: „Why did you want to meet?“

Claire relaxed a fraction and leaned on her seat. „I'm worried about you. You didn't seem like yourself back at Jody's.“

„I'm not possessed, if that's what you mean.“ Castiel retorted, knowing full well that was not what Claire meant.

„No...you seemed...sad. I mean, sadder than normal.“ She said, extending her hand on the table towards Castiel.

Castiel debated, perhaps too long, whether he should place his hand on hers or not but he did end up doing it, although almost immediately he gently pushed Claire's hand away and placed his own back on his lap.

„I'm fine. Are you...are you doing okay?“ 

Claire scoffed, albeit good-heartedly. „Yeah...I'm doing okay. Jody is great and Alex is really fun once she gets used to you.“

„I'm glad to hear that.“ Castiel said, allowing himself a small smile.

Claire nodded and then she looked at him intently, as though trying to dig out the answer to her earlier question through vision alone. She sighed and then said: „I know you're not fine though. I wish you would talk to me. Maybe I could help.“

„I assure you Claire, there is nothing you can do to help. You should focus on yourself and staying...okay.“ Castiel said, darkly, and perhaps rudely. He kind of really hoped this would be accepted as an answer.

But, of course, it wasn't. 

„You don't know until you try.“ Claire said, a slight angry tone to her voice. „Besides, I didn't mean I would or could solve your problems, I just know you don't talk about them at all and I thought it might help.“

Castiel did try his best to stay calm, this was Claire after all, and she, least of all, deserved him being irriated or angry towards but this was all still very much evident in Castiel's tone of voice when he said: „Talking about things doesn't really change anything. Everything is still there, except it's out in the open when nobody wants it to be.“

Claire frowned at that and rolled her eyes. „Even when somebody asks you to tell them because they care about you?“

And this caught Castiel like a whiplash. This conversation was fast becoming one of the more as of late unbearable things. 

„You don't mean that. I'm the one who took your father away from you and caused your mother to die. I don't know why you think you care but you don't, you couldn't possibly.“ Castiel said, knowing it was incredibly ill advised and, seeing it plainly on Claire's young face, he was sure of it.

But she asked him to talk, so he did. Nothing Claire could now do, Castiel thought, could in any way surprise him. In fact, he anticipated several reactions and, coached by many uncomfortable years of this type of experiences, he assumed himself prepared for them.

Claire cried. Not loudly, she didn't sob. She just let her tears flow while she continued looking at Castiel, intensely, purposefully. If it hadn't been for the tears there might have been an illusion there of parts of Castiel still intrinsically connected to this person. 

„I'm...“ Castiel began, only seconds prior confident that this was what he should say and then choking up like the pathetic waste of everyone's time he was.

„You're right.“ Claire interrupted his train of thought clean cut and sharp. „You are the reason my life is hell. In fact, I should hate you. I should hate you more than anyone. But I can't, I can't hate you because you look like him. You are...this is him.... When you don't talk it's almost as if he really is here, with me.“ Claire sobbed out the last of this and then wiped her tears resolutely and swiftly.

„I don't hate you Castiel. But...after this, I don't think I particularly like you. I still wish my father was here instead of you but I can't have that, now can I?“ She said and took a long gulp of her water. 

„Good luck solving your problems on your own.“ She said, spitefully. Then, she picked up her bag and left.

Castiel didn't even think about turning to get her. He was rooted into his place in the old worn out booth as though someone had pinned him there like a dead animal. He stared at his glass of beer which was still full and wished again that he could just get drunk. And then he had a strong desire to perish from existence. Castiel might have been an angel, never stopped being one, but everything else about him screamed to him: „I am human because if I wasn't, not one of these thoughts would cross my mind, and none of their pain would be etched into my being.“

In the end Castiel did leave, his glass of beer remaining untouched. As he got into his car he felt that he should just drive and stop only when he's out of gas. But then, again, even if choices were theoretically endless, there was only one that was actually possible, that was actually allowed to him.

As was the norm lately, parking in front of the bunker, Castiel felt hot flashes wash over him, a persistent sickness turn his stomach, and a lightheadedness to go with it. Briefly he considered that he still had time to turn away, but instead he walked over to the bunker, and let himself in.

Dean was in the main room, the room Castiel had to go through to get to his own bedroom, and, as was the norm for Dean in particular, he was surrounded both by old books presumably from the bunker's hefty library, and liquor, presumably from the bunker's hefty stash of it in the basement.

„How's Meg doing?“ Dean asked, somewhat derisively, once Castiel approached him.

„I wasn't with her.“ Castiel responded in equal measure. 

Dean smiled mockingly. „Oh, so you have some other friends? Good for you.“

Castiel fought the urge to physically harm something that was close to him. „What makes you think I wasn't alone?“ He asked, all but expecting an answer.

Dean shrugged and downed some more of his liquor. „You don't like being alone. I know that much. And I doubt you'd have the agency to leave unless someone called on you like a dog.“

„Well, I'm leaving now. I've had enough of this.“ Castiel said spitefully, opting not to go down that rabbit hole and instead find a hole in his bedroom to hide in.

Dean laughed and put the bottle of liquor up in his hand, shaking it invitingly. „I was just kidding Cas, chill. Want some?“

Castiel could tell Dean was already drunk even if the almost empty bottle hadn't revealed that. He hadn't drunk his beer so the liquor was tempting, even if it was useless. Castiel considered that maybe there was something alcohol could do for him, if it couldn't get him drunk. Maybe the very act of drinking has become a calming activity. Or could become one. Either way, he wanted to explore that on his own so he just left, feeling stupid for having felt a little bit proud of this act of defiance towards Dean.

However, of course Dean wouldn't just let him go.

Castiel was on his third bottle of what he guessed he should call „Dean's liquor“ when the man himself knocked on his door. Castiel ignored it but Dean let himself in anyway. 

„Man, I will kill you if you drink all of our stash.“ Was the first thing he said once he'd seen the empty bottles.

„What's stopping you from doing it right now?“ Castiel asked, entirely sober, but willing to act like he wasn't if it would let him run the stupid out of his system.

Dean laughed a decidedly unhappy laugh. „Really Cas, what are you, twelve?“

Castiel offered him a piercing glare. „Ah yes, but you don't have any problems killing children, now do you?“ He said, in very much morbid satisfaction.

Dean leaned on the wall of the room, hitting it a bit too strongly and crossed his arms. „You've killed more children than I ever have or could, and you did it when you were yourself, so don't even try me Cas.“

Castiel nodded, some of his anger ebbing away into inevitable pain. He didn't expect to be swarmed with images he barely had any recollection of, events that were taken from him but were still somewhere within. Naturally, Dean was right. But Dean wasn't guiltless either.

„Would you rather beat me up? I'm sure that would make you feel much better.“ Castiel offered, because he could think of nothing else to hurt Dean with.

„Fuck you Cas.“ Dean spat out and left, slamming the door on his way out.

Castiel anticipated he wouldn't feel any sort of satisfaction, and he didn't. All his body wanted was more alcohol, but leaving the room now seemed impossible. Inadvertently, although entirely obvious, he'd also managed to hurt himself in this process of hurting Dean. For some reason his body, or his grace, refused to forget Dean's hands on him, his body above him, seconds away from taking Castiel's life and then Dean leaving him there, lying in his own blood.

There have been many beings, some of whom Castiel considered to be family, who've hurt him in ways he wasn't certain he would ever be able to forget, but what Dean did persisted in impossibly physical ways.

When there was no longer any liquor left, Castiel attempted sleep. When, predictably, sleep didn't come, Castiel decided he might go outside of the room, look for more things to drink. Dean and Sam tended to stay up late, but surely there was a way to find his way to the bunker's basement stash without going through the main room.

As he was walking through the bunker's many hallways Castiel tried his best to steel his stomach from memories swarming his mind, from how weak he felt, and how much he deeply missed being able to fly. His wings would help him get away, so far away. To places his car couldn't, to places no human device could. He would be free. There would be more choices.

Castiel had to laugh at that, choked up and quiet as it was, that his mind would now think being how he used to be would be more freeing than being here right now, away from Heaven. Somehow these massive underground walls, for all the air they did have, for all the space, they felt more like a prison than anything else.

Castiel was so lost in his thoughts that he bumped into Sam in one of the hallways presumably leading to the basement.

„Cas...“ Sam said, bracing him from falling.

„Oh...Sam...“ Castiel mumbled. „Hello.“ He said, looking up.

Sam smiled awkwardly and helped Castiel steady himself. „Hello, I guess.“ Sam said. „What are you up to?“ He asked.

„Nothing.“ Castiel responded, and moved to continue his track to the basement but Sam cut him off.

„Cas...“ He said, with a somber expression. „I heard you...got in a fight with Dean.“

Castiel looked up at Sam, and then looked down just as quickly. „How would you know. It's not like the two of you are talking.“

Sam grimaced, appearing entirely worn out. „Yeah...I kinda actually heard you. I didn't mean to, obviously, but I was passing by your room and...yeah. It sounded really bad.“

Castiel exhaled with lifted brows and shrugged. „Yes. But I'm sure you've noticed that we seem to constantly fight. Lately anyway.“

Sam nodded to that. „I don't know what's up with Dean Cas, but you can't let him get to you too much. He's...going through some stuff.“

Castiel puffed out a very stilted laugh. „We are all going through -some stuff- Sam. Yet it doesn't require us to be hostile.“ 

„I don't know man, you seem pretty hostile lately as well. This whole thing with...I mean...with what has happened. We've been through worse and it's never been like this after, not this long.“ Sam said, morose.

„Perhaps it's that...same things have happened one too many times.“

Sam evidently had nothing to say to that because he just looked sad and pensive as he moved away for Castiel to pass. Castiel didn't look back. He had nothing to say to that either.

***


	5. Chapter 5

Meg called three days later. Rowena and her had captured Crowley and were holding him one state over. 

Castiel's initial reaction was to drive there immediately, but he didn't even have a dime to his name. All of his funds came from the bunker.

Knowing this, he approached Sam. He hoped at least he would be willing to lend him a hand without asking questions.

„Sam...I need some money.“ Castiel said, shame nestling nicely in his body.

Sam looked puzzled. „Why?“

Of course he'd ask at least that question. Castiel sighed and looked away.

„I need...I need to get away from the bunker for a while. I need...some time.“ He said and it wasn't even a complete lie.

Sam nodded, although he didn't look entirely convinced. „I can give you money. It's just...“

Castiel felt hot and cold again as he expected the worst, but Sam simply said: „Please, watch out for yourself. It would not be good for De...for us if you got hurt.“

Castiel exhaled in relief and genuinely smiled. Sam deserved that much. „I will, I promise.“ 

Promises. Castiel couldn't quite remember when he'd last made a promise he did or could keep. As he was driving through the countryside though, strangely, he finally felt somewhat at peace. He wondered if some of Dean's habits other than drinking had rubbed off on him somehow. Or maybe it was just himself, moving at a fast speed, closest to flying he would ever again get other than taking an aircraft of some sort. It also made him feel nostalgic for his wings, but that was a feeling he associated with every hour of his shredded existence.

Castiel then decided to put on some music. Something he liked. He'd have never guessed he'd ever be on Earth long enough to bother discovering music, but there it was. At least some things in human life didn't hurt.

Normally, trips across states took an incredible amount of time, but Castiel didn't sleep so it was half that and, soon, a few days later, he finally reached the meeting place.

It was night, and Meg was waiting for him outside of an old worn down factory placed neatly in the middle of a giant corn field. She stood outside of it firmly, a grim expression on her face. Castiel exited the car and walked up to her.

„I will just remind you that we could have already done this if I hadn't requested you be here. So, come on.“

Meg motioned for Castiel to come with her. They entered the factory. The inside of it was spacious but appeared as though it could collapse at any moment. The walls were shattered in places and windows almost all broken. There were old wooden crates scattered around, dust covering them and every inch of the place. There was a faint glow coming from the place where Rowena was, and surely, there he was.

Right in the middle of a pentagram circle, his bones placed ways away from him, in a circle of sorts as well.

„My my, Castiel. We were waiting for you. I, personally, grew very impatient.“ Crowley spoke in that mockingly pleasant tone, standing confident, as though he was the one who had the upper hand.

Castiel didn't doubt that he might have a way out. 

„Hello Crowley.“ Castiel greeted him, standing straight himself, trying to at least appear as confident as Crowley was.

„Meg, come here.“ Rowena interrupted them, ignoring Castiel entirely. She was showing her a book, of spells, Castiel assumed, probably for guarding of the demon as well as, ultimately, killing him.

„You can't kill me mother. Give up.“ Crowley commented, rolling his eyes.

Castiel finally then sensed the atmosphere of the room. Neither Rowena nor Meg appeared as confident as he'd thought they would be, given that they had every means to dispose of Crowley right there in front of them.

„You know Meg, when she's done with me she will kill you. And your boyfriend.“ To this, Crowley looked at Castiel, smug and confident.

At least there was one thing Castiel did correctly anticipate and did not think Crowley was lying about. He cradled the angel blade he'd found in the bunker as close to him as he could, knowing he would be praying now for it to work, if he had any prayer left in him.

„We burned some of his bones to see if it would work. And it didn't.“ Meg said, exasperated and irritated. 

„They might not even be his bones.“ Rowena supplied. „In which case I will dispose of both of you.“ She threatened and Meg glowered.

Castiel didn't particularly want to die there, but he'd hate it more if Meg died. Him being a human shield perhaps finally had some grounds to become reality.

„They are his bones. Around his neck is the exact same piece that is missing from the bag.“ Meg pointed out and then Castiel noticed that Crowley did indeed have a bone on a necklace around his neck. 

He was toying with it as they spoke, smiling, and looking at Castiel. Castiel thought of it as a clear challenge but didn't know what to do to respond to it. He couldn't very well jump into the circle and attempt to murder him right then and there, although the thought was very appealing.

„Perhaps he's put some kind of a spell on his bones.“ Castiel suggested.

Rowena looked at him like it was the most obvious thing to point out and then she said: „And that's why you're here darling. Don't think I'd just let you come if I didn't think you'd be useful.“

Meg exhaled and sat down on one of the wooden crates that were stacked to Castiel's right.

„And because I wanted you to be here. It's your right to see him dead as much as it is mine.“ Meg said and allowed herself to look at Castiel the way she did when they were alone. This was an expression of kindness and Castiel took it for what it was.

„I think I do know what it is. I will be useful to you.“

Rowena laughed in delight and clapped her hands once. „Who would've thought that not killing you was the way to go?“

Meg stood up at that. „Don't push it.“ She said, tightening her grip on her own angel blade.

„Come on Castiel, what is it, do tell us.“ Crowley suddenly spoke, seemingly entirely unconcerned.

„I wouldn't be so confident if I were you Crowley. This is the end for you.“ Castiel retorted with vigor, attempting once more to appear confident.

Crowley put his hands up in mock surrender and spread his mouth in an ugly self-satisfied smirk. „Oh ho, here you are, all your misguided weak minded fabricated „greatness“. Forgive me if I'm not terribly afraid of you.“

Castiel sneered and moved towards the circle. „You seemed scared last time I saw you.“ 

Crowley's expression immediately turned cold. „Yes. Last time. But last time is not this time and you, my angel, are not strong enough to kill me and neither are these two wretched whores.“

Rowena was moments from retaliating when the walls of the factory burst open and surrounded them all in smoke and debris. Castiel managed to evade them and Meg and Rowena did as well but they found themselves on the opposite sides of the factory, with Crowley in the middle, walking calmly over the destroyed borderlines of the circle.

Demons swarmed the place and readied for an attack.

„This was too easy. But I did tell you, not one of you can kill me.“ Crowley said and motioned for the demons to attack them.

Castiel attempted to run towards Crowley and so did Meg, but by the time they were close to where he stood he'd already vanished and the demons drew their weapons.

Castiel lost himself in the fight, going back to himself as the soldier, he thought only of the here and the now, and of protecting Meg.

Somehow, more demons kept coming, and Castiel realized Crowley didn't mean to just stop them and escape, he also very clearly meant to kill them.

The demons kept coming, an incredible number of them. 

At some point, Rowena seemed to have escaped because she was nowhere to be found. Castiel and Meg were both wounded but neither of them gave up.

And then, the inevitable happened. The brothers appeared, seemingly out of thin air, and joined them in their fight. Castiel momentarily lost his momentum because he was trying to suss out whether he was dreaming or not, but then Dean pushed him out of the way of a demon's angel blade and then it was no longer a question.

Dean was there. And Sam. Somehow they'd known where he'd went and they followed him. Castiel was glad that they did. He only hoped Meg wouldn't suffer for it.

Once they'd killed all the demons, and for some reason had none more coming, Dean turned to Castiel and said:

„I don't have to kill you. Or hurt you. You're damn good at doing that on your fucking own.“

***

They drove in silence to a nearby motel. Dean would normally put on his music but this time he didn't. Neither of the brothers looked at the backseat where Castiel and Meg were sitting, and Meg, for her part, hadn't said a word. She kept gripping the bloodied angel blade and Castiel was fairly sure she was hurting herself but he hadn't dared move or speak either.

Sam payed for two bedrooms and then he motioned for Castiel and Meg to come with them to the one where Dean and him would be sleeping.

Once inside, they all took their seats away from each other, Dean and Sam on the chairs next to a small wooden table, and Castiel and Meg on each bed.

„So...um....“ Sam started, but had a hard time finding words. Dean looked at him and then at Castiel, expression all but pleased.

„So we've been playing the „let's all lie to Dean game“, maybe now we can play the „tell the goddamn truth to Dean game“, for a fucking change, huh, how about it?“

To this, Meg raised her eyes finally and landed them firmly on Dean, seething in anger.

„And who the fuck do you think you are?“ She said, uncharacteristically sharp and devoid of her normal drawl.

„Excuse me?“ Dean jumped to his own defense but Meg was having none of it.

„What, like you'd care even if Castiel had told you.“ Meg said and then smirked. „After all, you're besties with Crowley, last I heard. At the very least you'd try to stop him.“

Dean got up and Meg did too, both of them walking towards each other and stopping in the middle of the room. Sam got half way up when Dean said:

„Yeah, yeah I would. And do you know why?“ 

Meg countered: „Enlighten me.“

Dean clenched his jaw and his hands into fists. „Because...because I don't want him fucking getting hurt!“

To this Castiel knew Dean was looking at him. He forced himself to look up. And there it was. Dean. If what Castiel had showcased in front of Crowley was confidence and righteous fury, then what Dean was doing was beyond him.

„You could've died Cas! That goddamn witch would have killed you without fucking batting an eye!“ 

Meg relaxed a fraction and looked at Castiel as well. 

„And you.“ Now Dean was looking at Meg. She turned back to him. „You, I don't goddamn trust you. I never have and I never will. You might have Cas and my stupid brother on your side but you don't fool me.“

Castiel saw that Sam looked like he was about to defend himself but perhaps thought better than to do it then.

„I don't care if you don't trust me. Come on Castiel, let's go.“ Meg said, and motioned for Castiel to follow her.

Castiel once again felt as though a spell had him rooted on the spot with no physical ability to move. He loathed his cowardice and he loathed the fact that he could no longer look into Dean's eyes and be sure of himself enough to trust him, to open himself up completely, to listen, even to so much as talk to him. Like he used to. Like they used to.

„Castiel, come on.“ Meg's voice floated somewhere above his head and then Dean, arguing again, unwilling to let him move and go. Perhaps that was why he couldn't. Maybe Dean's words did still have an inescapable grip on him.

„Guys, calm down. I don't think he's well.“ Sam's voice.

It all seemed very far away even though of course Castiel knew they were all in one room together, and he was there, he was almost sure. He was there with them.

Next, Castiel saw Sam from up close, worried, clasping one hand on his face. Castiel didn't think he would feel the touch, and was certain for a second that he didn't, but then suddenly the hand on his face became heavier than it had any right to be and he felt pain all over his body, pain that could have come from the battle, or it could have been coming from someplace else.

All he knew was that he'd somehow ended up on the very end of the room, next to the door of the bathroom and three concerned voices spoke above him, arguing among each other, and then referring back to him. Not all of it was discernible but what was made Castiel want to finish what felt like disappearing.

„Please...stop.“ He said instead, in a voice that he, for just a moment, couldn't recognize as his own (because it wasn't his own).

Then Sam was down there close to him, not touching him at all this time.

„Cas, hey...come on.“

„Don't...“ Castiel started but lost the words. He'd meant to tell Sam not to touch him, because maybe if he didn't Castiel could shake whatever it was that was happening to him. If only they didn't touch him.

Sam figured it out anyway and Dean and Meg had to follow suit. Sam told them something and then they both left. Soon, Castiel heard a sound of water, from a pipe perhaps, in the room next to him. Sam appeared next to him again.

„Cas, can you get up?“ 

Castiel didn't think he could, but he tried and somehow succeeded in pulling himself up. Sam didn't touch him or help him up, he just told him to go to the bathroom, the room next to him, and place himself inside the shower.

Once water touched him it felt as if he'd half way woken up from a dream. He did sleep a few times in his life and he thought he remembered that this was how it felt. It also felt, sobering. But he wasn't fully there for a long time and when he did come back, the water had gone cold.

Castiel exited the room with the water and Sam was there, sitting on the bed nearest to the door.

„You're dripping wet!“ Sam jumped from the bed and ran to him. Castiel moved away.

„Sorry. Uh...it's just...you should take your clothes off.“ Sam said.

Castiel looked at himself then and realized he'd gone in the shower fully dressed. He began taking his clothes off but Sam stopped him.

„Cas uh...I'll give you some of my clothes okay, just...wait.“ Castiel watched Sam rummage through his worn out duffel bag and come up with a long sleeved shirt and jeans.

„Here. Go, uh, inside the bathroom and get changed, okay? Put the wet clothes on the floor, I'll pick them up.“ 

Castiel did as instructed. When he emerged from the bathroom he still felt somewhat dazed but present enough to thank Sam for the clothes.

„No big deal Cas. I think you should lie down. Should I...do you want me to stay or should I leave?“

Castiel thought about it. „I...I don't know.“ He said.

Sam looked at him sympathetically but Castiel assumed most of it was just pity. He guessed he was pitiable, that was the bulk of what he was, not just to himself, but to the people he was once in charge with. The ones he protected. Because back then he was strong enough. He was useful. 

„Okay...I'll sit by the table and do some research. You can lie down.“

Castiel did, even though he knew it was pointless for him. Sleep would not come and he would be forced to face what had happened when the fog in his mind cleared.

„Sam...“ He mumbled sometime later.

„Yes Cas?“ Sam looked at him from where he was sat, the light from the laptop screen on his face. It was the only source of light in the room. Strangely, it felt comforting and calming.

„What...what is happening to me? Is this because of Rowena's spell?“

Sam's expression saddened. „No. It's something that happens when a mind goes through a trauma and then if the person is triggered, they...well, it happens.“

Castiel frowned. „But I'm not...human. I'm not a person.“

Sam moved from the laptop and sat next to Castiel on the second bed.

„You're not. But you think, and you feel, and you remember. Cas...the things you've been through, this is not uncommon.“

Castiel still didn't understand fully but he appreciated Sam's patience with him. 

„Can this...when will it stop?“ Castiel resolved to ask, even if his voice was weak, and even if the question had an obvious answer everybody knew except for him.

Sam looked away. He seemed troubled. 

„It might. It depends.“ Sam looked back and Castiel could anticipate what Sam would say next. „First step is to try and talk about it, to someone. It doesn't have to be Dean or me.“

Castiel didn't think he could talk to Dean about this. About anything, not anymore. But Sam, he could talk to Sam. He already had and Sam had reacted with kindness. Castiel was somewhat afraid of that exact thing, this forgiveness Sam had in himself for everyone, even for him. But there was no one else. Meg had already listened to him enough for one lifetime.  
Castiel grimly decided that it would have to be Sam he'd place this burden on, even if Sam didn't deserve it either.

„Can I...talk to you?“ Castiel thought he'd at least ask though he didn't think Sam would reject him.

And Sam hadn't. Of course he hadn't.

So Castiel told Sam about the hot flashes, the sickness in his stomach, the images, how what Naomi and Metatron had done to him and then Dean, how all of it persisted in his mind and in this physical body he was in. He told Sam about the urge he had to anger Dean, how petty it all was but how he couldn't stop himself because nobody else he was angry with was around. How everything he'd done continued to weigh on him. How the fact that whenever he attempted to redeem himself he made things even worse. How this made him think that God didn't think he deserved to ever be forgiven. How useless he felt. How guilty he felt. How scared he felt. And, finally...how often he still thought about killing himself.

Sam listened to all of it in silence and, when Castiel finished, Sam asked:

„Do you mind if...I give you a hug?“

Castiel was momentarily surprised which caused Sam to apologize and backtrack but then Castiel said: „No...you...you can.“

Castiel almost forgot how a simple touch could mean a lot. None of that type of touch he'd had thus far was comforting, it all had it's own weight. But now, having said all he'd said, it felt...nice.

„Sam...“ Castiel spoke when Sam ended the hug. „I...don't know how to thank you.“

Sam smiled. „It's okay Cas. It was no trouble. I just want you to know...we're both here for you. And we'll get through this, as we always do.“

„Dean would never be comfortable talking like this. Unless it was urgent.“ Castiel said and then felt like somebody had punched him in the stomach. He shouldn't have said that.

Sam however, simply laughed. „Yeah he...he probably wouldn't unless he really felt he had to. Or if he was really drunk. But he has other ways. We all have our own stuff, ya know.“

„Yes, I know.“ Castiel agreed and closed his eyes.

Even if sleep didn't come, his body wanted him to keep lying down.

***

Sometime when the night had already fallen, Dean came back to the room, bringing with himself bags of greasy food Castiel couldn't yet identify and, surprisingly, Meg was right there with him.

„Castiel...you okay?“ Meg asked, sincerity masked by carefully applied layer of nonchalance.  
Dean side eyed her from where he'd sat, offering Sam one of the bags of food.

„Yes...more or less.“ Castiel said, finding his voice sounded particularly weak and pathetic.

Meg shrugged and smiled. „Of course you are, you're a tough little tree topper Clarence.“ She said, satisfied and then she pointed at the bags on the table. „Want some food?“ 

Before Castiel could respond Dean grabbed the bags. „This is my food, food that I bought, with my own money. Keep your fingers out of it.“ He was talking to Meg directly, but Castiel felt reprimanded all the same.

„Come on bad boy, sharing is caring.“ Meg taunted and Dean was about to respond when Sam snatched the bags from him and said: „Clam down Dean. Here you go.“ He turned to Meg and tossed her one of the bags.

Dean grumbled as Meg sat down next to Castiel and pulled out what turned out to be an incredibly greasy although still your run of the mill hamburger. Meg offered it to Castiel while it was still half wrapped, but Castiel didn't think he'd have it in him to eat so he declined.

„Suit yourself.“ Meg said, and bit into the food heartily.

„I thought you didn't need to eat.“ Castiel commented quietly but Dean still heard him if his reaction was anything to go by.

„Right? She totally doesn't need to eat, she just wants to mooch off of our stuff.“ Dean commented, still decidedly grumpy.

„Oh shut up.“ Meg said. „It's one of the joys of having a meatsuit.“

Then Dean turned to her and pointed. „You, you are lucky we allowed you in here, first, and second, lucky you're not dead. So don't push it.“

Meg smirked at that and bit into her food. „Like you could kill me.“ 

To this Dean slammed his burger perhaps with more violence than strictly necessary, on the table, and got up. „Wanna try me?“ He insisted, hands instinctively clasping into fists.

Sam rolled his eyes at the same time Meg did. „Dean, sit down and eat.“ Was all Sam said and, while Dean didn't sit immediately he did end up doing it after he indulged in starring daggers into Meg's relaxed unflinching form.

„So. What's next, we go back to the bunker or find a hunt?“ Sam asked, perhaps to be malleable towards Dean.

„Let's go back. I need a good night's sleep on an actual bed.“ Dean said, sounding somewhat grumpy.

Castiel couldn't fairly blame him but the tension in the room was making him uncomfortable. He noticed Meg eyeing him from where she was sitting, on the bed next to his.

„You do that. Cas and I will go our own way, right Cas?“ Meg asked to which Dean turned to her.

„Cas isn't going anywhere with you.“ Dean countered pointedly.

Meg's expression turned serious and her body stiffened. „That is not your choice.“ She said.

Dean then left his food altogether and got up. He started walking towards Meg. Castiel didn't think before he put themselves between the two of them, Sam right behind Dean, ready to intervene as well.

„Cas...“ Dean began, in barely a whisper. „...You almost got killed because of her.“ He said, peering into Castiel as he tended to do when he needed him to listen.

„It wasn't her fault.“ Castiel said, but he didn't look up to Dean to challenge him on it.

„You're coming with us.“ Dean said, this time louder and stronger.

„You don't have to listen to him Cas.“ Meg pointed out, moving to stand beside him.

When Dean was about to argue with her Sam said: „Calm down Dean.“ And put a hand on his shoulder. Dean shook it off. „I am calm. I'm perfectly calm.“ Dean said, evidently lying.

Castiel sort of felt more like he wanted to be left alone or just leave by himself, if only he didn't have to listen to arguments like these anymore but, he stood, rooted in place, waiting to be pulled either way.

Dean didn't disappoint because the next thing he did was, he grabbed Castiel's hand, took his duffel bag, and rushed towards the exit.

„Dean!“ Sam called while Meg was already way under way to catching up to them.

She did so when they were outside, close to the Impala.

„Dean, stop being an idiot and let him go.“ Meg said, placing herself in-between Dean and the doors to his car.

Castiel woke up enough to try and free himself from Dean's bruising grasp but he found he had no energy left in him to do that.

„Dean...“ Castiel tried but then he went lax in Dean's hands and when he felt his grip weaken he shook it off and then he entered the Impala.

He saw Sam running up to them with his own duffel bag. He said something to Meg who'd just began arguing with Dean. Meg then looked at him with pity evident in her expression. She shook her hand and probably swore before she turned away and went back to the motel.

They rode in silence almost all the way to the bunker. Sam tried for something nonchalant like the weather but it didn't take. After what seemed like an eternity Dean finally pulled up in front of the bunker. Castiel expected he would feel that persistent dread that had lately accompanied his closeness to the bunker, but he felt nothing.

Once they were inside the bunker Sam told them to go sit down in the main room. He joined them shortly, sitting down next to Castiel.

„Okay so, we kinda need to talk.“ Sam said.

Dean scoffed. „Talk about what Sammy?“ He asked in a tone that suggested he didn't really want an answer. Sam gave it anyway.

„Well first, we need to talk about you Dean. Castiel and I are both worried about you.“ Sam explained, in that soft careful almost parent like tone of voice.

Dean laughed at that. „Aha, I'm sure hot wings here is super worried about me. Frankly, I don't think you are either. You just wanna make things easier for yourself.“

„Don't be so difficult Dean.“ Sam said, sounding somewhat strained.

„Difficult?“ Dean spat back. „You know what, there's nothing to talk about Sam. We're both still alive, we fucked up again, Cas is still doing his best to kill himself and that's it. Old news. Nothing's changed and nothing will change.“ As he said this, Dean got up and left the room.

Sam fully intended on following him but Castiel stopped him.

„There's no use Sam, just go...lay down or something.“ Castiel suggested, having himself felt incredibly tired.

Sam reluctantly did just that and Castiel went to his room.

***


	6. Chapter 6

The day had started normal, from what Castiel could tell. Sam had made coffee and Dean made a joke on his account and then they searched for clues as to where and how The Darkness was going to make its move.

Even Jody had called, with offers to help. Dean didn't seem happy about it so he let Sam take the call and offer an extended amount of platitudes that all mostly meant they were only going to let her help if they somehow ended up immovable and unresponsive vegetables.

Castiel, of course, understood the value of teamwork but he also had what had now amounted to more than enough years of having his friends, his family, slowly peeled out of the sanctity of their garrison, and their species as a whole, either by his own hand or by somebody else's. He could sympathize.

Sam, however, didn't appear to be on board and thus began yet another brother's quarrel. Castiel had seen those happen every day he'd been at the bunker and some had made him, among many other things, wish he was pretty much anywhere else.

Still, the bunker was spacious and there were places to go.

Dean found him stuck in the bunker's library. Castiel had extensive knowledge of, well, everything, but having his grace mangled and mutilated has left him somewhat more forgetful of things that weren't of immediate importance. 

He was reading a book on creatures about as old as himself, but none close to the monster the brother's had unleashed, when Dean approached him.

„Hey, Cas...“ He called, somewhat sheepishly, which wasn't a common Dean-like attitude.

„Yes?“ Castiel responded, closing the book. There wasn't anything important in it anyway.

„Can you come with me for a second?“

***

Castiel thought it prideful of him to question how Dean could have had an upper hand with him so he stopped and accepted that he got complacent. Lazy. He couldn't tell there was anything wrong with Dean, supernatural or otherwise, and that was his mistake.

Dean's death will be his punishment.

***

It became evident that Dean hadn't yet left the bunker when Castiel heard yelling outside of the doors to his room. He couldn't hear very clearly even with his supernatural hearing, which he supposed solved the question of whether Dean could have heard him or not, but it was obvious Dean was arguing with someone who was in the room in front of his.

Sam, most likely.

***

„It wants me so it's gonna get me. I'm ending this.“

„Again Dean? We're doing this again? This needs teamwork, you can not go in alone!“

„Fucking hell I can't! I'm tired of this Sam, I'm tired. I'm going to meet it and I'm most likely going to die and that's that. Everything, everything, it ends now.“

„Dean, you can't do this!“ Sam yelling was muffled through the door but Castiel could make it out.

„Yes I fucking can and I will. This world will have two monsters less in it and it will be that much better for it.“ Dean said, and then stomped off, followed by more of Sam's yelling and banging on the door.

Castiel, for his part, sat back down on the bed. He could probably break the lock with what he'd learned from Dean, because he wasn't nearly strong enough to actually physically pull out the doors.

Granted, Dean did sound like his usual self, sacrificial , impulsive, and controlling. Perhaps it was just him making yet another executive decision for everyone else. Castiel felt a chuckle coming on at that, surprising himself.

He thought his noddle might not be in order after all. Not good for a noddle to laugh at his supposed friend leaping of to a certain death. 

Not good at all.

So Castiel got up, sighed, and went on to find whatever he could to break the lock and free himself. Dean couldn't have gotten far yet, even with his reckless driving, speeding over limit more often than not.

When he freed himself, Castiel debated shortly on whether he should free Sam as well, or leave him where he was, but then he decided he didn't want to follow in Dean's example, so he went and broke the lock. The doors opened to a frantic Sam, who had probably been searching for something to get himself out of the room.

„We should probably go after him.“ Castiel said.

Sam stopped his search and looked at him strangely. Then he looked like he was thinking about something very carefully. Instead of nodding and rushing out of the room though, like Castiel expected him to do, Sam sat on the bed heavily, and sort of slumped.

„I'm so tired Cas. I'm so goddamn tired of this.“ Sam said, clutching his forehead with his hand.

Castiel didn't know what to say, so he sat next to Sam and put his hand on his shoulder. That was probably what a friend would do, if said friend has nothing else to help with because said friend was horrible and useless.

„I'm tired of running in circles. I feel like we haven't moved from the same place we ended up after I got back from hell. Or maybe even before that. It's always the same, and I...I don't know where in the hell I'm supposed to find the will to just...“ Sam said, sounding greatly frustrated.

„We're all tired. Old and tired.“ Castiel said solemnly.

„Maybe all three of us should just...die.“ Sam said, and even if Castiel was inclined to agree, Sam looked shocked at his words, and then he paled, as though he was sick.

„I can't believe I just said that. I don't...I don't really think that, Cas...fuck.“ He said, clutching his forehead again, and then Sam did something Castiel had never seen him do.

Sam cried. Soundlessly he sobbed, and his shoulder shook. Castiel removed his hand, and thought about how it suddenly didn't matter so much whether they were locked up in a small room or outside of it, because everything began to feel equally tight and airless. 

„Dean...he's probably influenced by the force you released. He's most likely not thinking straight. If we banish the force, he might be okay.“ Castiel said mechanically, unable to summon a comforting tone.

Sam laughed breathlessly. Sadly. „You know that won't make any difference. He's been like this ever since...for so long now. I don't know if he's ever going feel any different. Hell, I don't know if I will. Or if you will. Cas...I don't have that much experience granted, but your level of trauma and resulting PTSD is one of the goddamn worst I'd seen or read about. You...even now you're feeling nothing, you're dissociated and you don't even know it.“

Castiel swallowed thickly, looking away to a suddenly very interesting spot of dirt in the corner of Sam's otherwise pristine room.

„Cas...“ Sam started, but didn't continue.

„You're right.“ Castiel finally said, feeling sort of proud of himself that he didn't simply walk away. „I'm...I'm not okay. And neither is Dean. And neither are you. And neither is Claire, or Jody, or Alex, or Meg, or anyone we know. This is a test now Sam. It's a test to see if we really are the villains in this story.“ Castiel said, looking back to Sam, who didn't seem to comprehend.

Castiel sighed. „The three of us. We have a decision to make. Because what you two released is evil, and ancient. It's older than the Leviathan, and it's older than God. We don't know what it will do, but everyone we know, and everyone we don't know, is in danger. I could stay here with you for centuries, but if we decide to not be the villains, then we have to move, and we have to do it fast. We have to fix this. And then, if we survive, we'll see if there's any point left for us to stay here.“

Castiel prayed as they drove off, but not to God, or to any other gods. He prayed to Metatron, to release him from this dreadful dream and then to kill him. Torture of this kind was something he'd never experienced under Naomi. A reality constructed so well, even the purr of Sam's fancy car sounded the same as it always did, and the color peeling off of it was perfectly emulated.

Even Sam, down to the last molecule. But the Sam he knew wouldn't do what he'd done in that room. He wouldn't give up, he wouldn't cry, and he wouldn't let his brother die.

 

***

Sam might have been right about Castiel dissociating, if he understood what that meant well enough, because he was in the car and then, like a jump in time, he was in an old warehouse, with Sam yelling in the background, and someone who looked exactly like Dean standing in front of him.

That, or Metatron had gotten bored and had sped up time, like on an old cassette tape. This made Castiel laugh, to which Sam had turned to him and gone quiet.

„Do you see this Dean? Do you see what he's like? This is not just about you, you're not the only one suffering here. You're being so goddamn selfish...so goddamn...“ Sam yelled.

Dean did appear to have felt a pang of guilt, if the way he was looking at Castiel was any indication. Castiel wanted to tell him that Sam was right, that Dean tended to be quite selfish at times, and that it was really about time he stopped thinking he was more self sufficient than his brother or himself, but, for whatever reason, words wouldn't come out of his mouth.

Castiel thought Metatron might have tied his mouth shut again, which prompted him to touch his lips. There was nothing there, of course, because this was a dream.

Only then did he notice the brothers both looking at him, worried. Dean was frowning something terrible, and Sam was waving a hand in front of his eyes, Castiel realized, so he moved to look at them, and motioned at his mouth.

„Great. Now he can't even speak. You both should have fucking stayed in the bunker. And I'm being selfish, right. You, who can't listen to a goddamn thing, always doing whatever the hell you want...“ Dean spat out, pointing at Sam. „And you, who should have stayed in the loony bin, saved yourself and all of us from your fuck ups.“

„Dean, it's not his fault. How could you even say that?“ Sam said, aghast on Castiel's expense. „What he went through was done to him, he didn't deserve any of it.“

Dean looked skeptic. „Oh, no? You of all people should know better than to think that. All three of us are fucked up, and half of it is on us. Either we did it to ourselves, or to each other. Don't forget that. We deserve anything and everything that is coming to us.“

„So then why did you lock us up?“ Sam demanded, to which Dean's face contorted in a strange way, and Sam sported a smug smirk. „Ah, I see. You just wanted to save us from our sins, take it all on yourself. 'Cause that's what you are for in this group of fucking idiots.“

Castiel sensed someone approaching, so he pointed silently at the door. Sam and Dean got into a fighting stance, but, as it turned out, they didn't have to bother.

„Hiya, punks.“ Someone who looked like but couldn't have been Gabriel said in a joyful voice.

The brothers seemed to befall under the same inability to speak, while Castiel stuttered: „P-p-please...stop this.“

Gabriel narrowed his eyes and frowned. „You okay bro?“ He asked.

Castiel shook his head and backed away. 

„The hell did you do to him?“ Gabriel demanded, to which Sam seemed to awake from shock and say: „N...nothing. We did nothing to him.“

„Yeah.“ Dean supplied, tersely. „He's been like this for a while now. And you, you've been dead for a shit ton of time too, so who are you, spit it out!“

Gabriel put his hands up in mock surrender. „Last I checked, I'm me. Don't ask me how I'm alive tho 'cuz I have no freaking idea. But then, all of you are alive also, which fucking surprised me, let me tell ya.“

Castiel kept backing away while Dean kept advancing, inspecting the newcomer who looked like but absolutely could not have been Gabriel. Out of all people to bring out in this new fantasy, Metatron made the mistake of bringing back the same one from before. Castiel laughed at him in his head, thinking he was smart, thinking he could trick him this time as well. No way, not him.

„I know it's you...“ Castiel whispered, clutching his head. „...just stop this, stop it. I'll do whatever you want.“

All three beings in the room turned to him and looked. Castiel didn't want to meet their eyes, didn't want to look up at all until his prayers were answered. When he finally looked up, he thought, it damn well better be Metatron sitting in front of him on his antique table, typing away on his goddamn typewriter.

„Fuck off!“ The not Gabriel yelled, and a hand was smacked. Then, somebody touched his shoulder, and then his arms, intent on removing them from where he'd been clutching his head, but Castiel wouldn't budge, not for an illusion, not for a trick.

„Bro...fuck. Castiel, look at me.“ The illusion said and, when Castiel refused, the illusion yelled obscenities again, and tried forcing him to get up. Castiel kept mumbling prayers to Metatron, whom he'd begun realizing would never listen to him, no matter what he said. No matter how much he growled and prayed.

This must finally be some sort of a penance. When he looked up, Gabriel either wouldn't be there anymore, or he would tell him all of the things Castiel knew he would hear from any of his brothers and sisters at that point. –You are no angel. You are nothing. I'm ashamed of you. You disgust me.-

But that is what he deserved to hear. So then, Castiel looked up, and Gabriel was still there, but he didn't appear to be angry. He, of all things, looked concerned. In an unexpected turn of events, Castiel was pulled into a strong hug.

Castiel didn't manage to return the hug, but Gabriel didn't seem to mind. He looked at Castiel up and down, frowning, and then proceeded to wave his hand left and right in front of Castiel's face.

„This is all real bro, you do know that right? You are listening to me?“ Gabriel said, sounding uncertain.

Castiel didn't know why everyone insisted on waving their hands in his face, but still, the trickery was amazing. Castiel would have maybe even been inclined to congratulate Metatron on his world building, if he wasn't irrevocably trapped in it with no way out unless Metatron took mercy on him and just killed him.

Thinking that, suddenly, Castiel was struck with an idea. He couldn't know if it would work for sure, but he had to try something to get out of this elaborate hellhole.

„I know that.“ Castiel said, shaking his head. „I apologize. I was just surprised. How are you here Gabriel?“

Gabriel shrugged. „I said I don't know. But I'm glad I am because y'all look like you need someone capable on your team, let me tell you. And as for how I found you, you can thank your demon friend for that.“

„Crowley?“ Dean guessed, to which Gabriel made a truly disgusted grimace. „No ya loon. Meg, or whatever their real name is. I hear the demon and my bro here have been getting pretty cozy together. I'd congratulate you Cassy for finally stepping out of your vanilla virgin outfit, but a demon, really?“

Castiel didn't have a response for that. For a moment he could swear he saw worry in not Gabriel's eyes, before his brother huffed and looked away from him. He spoke intently about some plan to stop Crowley and The Darkness, and Castiel could swear he mentioned their father at some point.

Not that it really mattered. 

***

Under Gabriel's impatient guidance, they relocated to a nearby motel, guarded the entrances, and began a meeting of sorts.

„I do have a theory though, as to why I'm here.“ Gabriel said, to Dean's perpetually annoyed and Sam's wondering expression. He smirked. „Me thinks daddy is shirking his responsibilities again. And I assume he'd make do with Cas, as he had so far, but seeing as how my bro is...down in the dumps, I guess it's me this time. Better me than Michael, right?“

Gabriel sounded delighted. Dean didn't even pretend to feel the same way, but Sam, as Sam normally did, got right down to business.

„So, how exactly do we stop it?“ He asked.

„Well...“ Gabriel drawled out. „We can't. There's no way in hell we can. Even as an archangel I'm super not even in the same league.“

Dean rolled his eyes. „Then what good did bringing you back do?“

Gabriel looked offended. „Excuse me buck boy, but I am here to help. I don't even have to help you, 'cause you're even more useless than me. I'll just take Cas then, and we'll be on our way.“

Dean sighed at the same time Gabriel got up, motioning for Castiel to follow him. 

„Wait!“ Sam said. „Look, it's good you're here. We need all the help we can get. All of us, we can help each other.“

„That, we might. I've shared what I know, as I'm sure Cas did. Tomorrow, we're gonna go see about summoning dear old dad to task. In the meantime, I have to talk to my bro, you won't mind?“ Gabriel said.

Dean shrugged him off and Sam gave an affirmative nod. Castiel followed Gabriel mutely towards their own motel room, just a few doors down. When they settled in, Gabriel sat down on the damaged filth infested table next to the only window, and sighed.

„What's going on Cas?“ He asked, sounding uncharacteristically genuine.

Castiel could only assume trickery yet again, and how apt, for a one time trickster himself. He sat down across from his brother, frowning at the table stains, and gathered his wits.

„I'm fine.“ He said.

Gabriel shook his head. „Right. And I'm a shiny rainbow unicorn exuding rainbow colored farts.“

„That's a disturbing image.“ Castiel said, to which Gabriel laughed jovially, clasping Castiel's shoulder across from the small table.

„But really though, be honest with me Cassie. What did...“ He sighed again. „I know you've met with Metatron, and I know what he did to you. I know all of it. But it seems to still be fucking with you. Hell, you look like you're suspended in that chair still.“

Castiel was quiet for a moment, debating whether to say anything at all. He figured, even if it was a fantasy world created by Metatron, and he wouldn't let him out, then he could say whatever he wanted, and have the situation remain the same.

„Maybe I am still in that chair. That's what I can't shake off. And you, if you are a figment of my brother, created by Metatron, and if you aren't real, as you haven't been before, then all information you have is a useless lie, and I can't ask you anything, or learn anything from you, that would save me.“

Gabriel looked as though he was struck by lighting. „Oh man.“ He said. „They really scrambled your brains. Fuck.“

„I take it you disagree with my statement.“ Castiel said.

Gabriel huffed and theatrically swung his hands down on his thighs. „You even gotta ask? I'm real Cas. This is all real. Do you not sense it? Do you not have any idea at all? You're an angel for fuck's sake, and you can't tell reality from an illusion?“

„I've been diminished. Everything I was has been taken from me. I exist in fractions, in quips and strange, more and more, ridiculous and unreal situations. I don't know how else to explain it.“ Castiel explained, even if he knew it was pointless. „Dean is not Dean, and Sam is too much Sam, and you are dead.“

Gabriel frowned. „Wait...“ He said. „...okay, you're rambling like a lunatic, and we're gonna be dealing with that, but you've felt it too?“

When Castiel didn't respond out of sheer confusion, Gabriel clicked his tongue and continued: „Dean seems different to me. I feel a presence within him. Hell, he's always been an asshole, but there's something else. And you, my dear brother, even with your completely misguided and crazy brain, felt it too. See, told ya it's not all gone to shit.“

Gabriel appeared pleased. Castiel, for his part, remained sitting in the chair at the table, while Gabriel sounded his doubts and his theories to him, and then something about all the things he'd missed and wanted to experience again, well into the night, and then into early morning.

***

„Sam told me Dean has been like this for a long time now.“ Castiel said, once Gabriel's theories went back to focus on Dean, recalling a conversation he'd had with Sam. „He doesn't think it's anything supernatural. He thinks it's...PTSD?“ 

Gabriel laughed. „Right. That may be, but, as I said, that boy has been touched by the devil, excuse the phrase, enough times to begin attracting some of the worst into chasing his pretty ass around. He has a connection with The Darkness, and definitely with Hell. I guarantee you, little brother, he's as good as possessed.“

„I thought he stopped being a demon when the brothers released the Darkness.“ Castiel commented simply, focusing most of his attention on the very detailed outside car parking lot.

Gabriel clicked his tongue and hummed. „Boy oh boy, what a mess this is. I almost wish I was still dead, almost being an operative word here though.

Castiel frowned and dared ask: „Every time I've died, there was nothing. Did you...where did you end up?“

Expression he hadn't previously shown, an expression of utter grave dread passed over Gabriel's face. „Nowhere.“ He said. „I was nowhere.“

Castiel didn't know what he expected or wanted out of that question. Hell and Heaven were for humans and demons, and Purgatory was for monsters. The death of an angel had to be exempt from either. A being that was supposed to live forever can only burn out but, even nowhere sounded better than the now.

„Perhaps that is because the brothers killed Death.“ Castiel said, to which Gabriel made a truly exemplary surprised grimace.

„They did what?“ He asked.

„Dean killed Death. With Death's scythe.“ Castiel explained.

Gabriel huffed out an exhausted sigh. „Okay, well. The thing is, Death was just a physical representation of one of the horsemen of the Apocalypse. Death might be gone as he'd existed for a time, but death is still a thing bro. It can't just stop existing.“

„I thought so too.“ Castiel said. „But I wasn't certain.“

„Also, Death doesn't control any of the dimensions, be it Hell or Heaven, or even Purgatory. Those still do very much exist. And if I had to wager a guess as to what we are dealing with here, The Darkness, my bro, might be just that.“

„The absence of everything.“ Castiel guessed, and by Gabriel's expression, it was correct.

Suddenly, a rumbling and trashing was heard coming from the direction of one of the rooms. Ordinary people wouldn't have been able to point out exactly where it was coming from, but Gabriel and Castiel knew immediately; it was coming from the room Sam and Dean were occupying.

Getting up and out of their chairs, Castiel moved to run towards the room, but Gabriel touched him and they were there. Sam was on the floor, holding his bleeding jaw, squinting through teary eyes at Dean.

When Dean turned to them, his eyes were pitch black.

***

„Aw shit.“ Gabriel said, swaying in place for emphasis. 

„What, like me even less now?“ Dean spoke surprisingly, sounding a lot like Dean still. „I tried to keep you safe, from me, from all of this, but hey, when in the hell did anyone listen to anything reasonable in this group? That's right, never.“

„Dean...“ Sam mumbled, trying valiantly to get up. „You can fight this, I know you can.“

Platitudes and more platitudes, Castiel thought, as Dean took a swing at him and he barely dodged. Gabriel was on him in a second, restraining him for all of a moment before Dean broke out with a gnarly grunt. Sam tried to help, but he just got knocked out again.

Castiel didn't want to speak at all. Words never worked, and they wouldn't work now. So he attacked, pushing Dean onto the floor, ending up roughly on top of him. Looking into Dean's eyes then, which had remained black, Castiel realized he couldn't see anything. It was, and it felt, like he was looking into an empty shell.

Whether it was because he was diminished or because, whatever had taken hold of Dean, had thoroughly burnt out whatever was left of his soul.

„Damn Cas, finally you've got me where you've wanted me all along.“ Dean said, smirking. „Wanna grind a little, or do you want me to just kick the shit out of you again, right now?“

„Do whatever you want.“ Castiel spat out. 

Dean smiled and ended up kicking Castiel off of him and then into a wall, his hands firmly on Castiel's neck. Not that Castiel was a stranger to suddenly losing all air in his lungs. He decided not to struggle at all.

„Cas!“ Gabriel yelled from somewhere behind Dean, stabbing him in the back with some sort of a knife. Before Castiel could see the most likely outcome of that, Dean stumbled back in pain. His eyes turned back green as he fell to his knees on the floor

Gabriel recited a spell, and Dean was gone.

***

Castiel was patching Sam's wounds as Gabriel walked back and forth, seemingly deep in thought and, for once, silent. Sam didn't flinch at any of it, the burn of the alcohol, the prick of the needle, nor the tightness of the bandages. In fact, he looked like he wouldn't move or speak even if he absolutely had to. Castiel knew the feeling all too well.

Sam, whether he was real or not, did help him when he was like this, so Castiel decided to pretend this wasn't imaginary and attempt to use platitudes to lift Sam's mood.

„We're going to find him, and he's going to be okay.“ Castiel said in almost a whisper, which made his voice sound awfully gravely.

Sam didn't respond, so Castiel continued: „Gabriel and I think we know what you've released. We still aren't sure how to defeat it, but at least we know something.“

„It doesn't matter.“ Sam finally said. „We've lost.“

Castiel didn't quite know whether to scream or cry at that point, and neither option was particularly dignified so he opted to stay silent. 

Gabriel sighed. „This is all looking pretty bad, but hey, we're still here bucks, and we got off easy. Now, you gonna get up and do something other than whine and moan, or should I just go ahead and summon dad by myself?“

„I'll go with you. Sam, stay here and rest.“ Castiel said.

Sam nodded, and it seemed like he would do what Castiel told him to do, because he ended up lying down on the bed. Still, you never knew what could happen. 

Gabriel transported Castiel to an abandoned church in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by corn fields. The church itself was run down, but it looked like it was possibly still in use. Then, he flew once more, bringing batches of various ingredients.

Castiel had begun to feel an overpowering sense of longing and a crushing sense of weight upon him. His wings felt like burning.

„Bro, you okay?“ Gabriel asked, while whisking a few of the ingredients together in an ancient looking bowl.

„I can not do that anymore. My wings are broken.“ Castiel said. „I suppose it is a fitting punishment for everything I've done.“

Gabriel rolled his eyes and continued whisking. „You're so melodramatic. I'd say you've been hanging out with those bozos for too long, but you were always a bit of a weeping willow. Like, oh no we must kill these children, I don't want to!“ Gabriel said, emphasizing it with a whiny voice of his own. „And, oh no we must smite a village! Cause a flood, oh no!“

„You berate me for having empathy.“ Castiel commented flatly, to which Gabriel laughed mockingly. „No, I berate you for crying about things you were commanded to do as a soldier following orders, and things you did all by yourself. Take it like an adult Cassie, and deal with it.“

„I wasn't always like that.“ Castiel said, his only way of defense being murky memories of himself.

„Yeah, you weren't.“ Gabriel said, sounding strangely amused. „When you were younger, you were quite a spiteful lil' spit ball. And curious as all hell, and clumsy. If I hadn't stopped you, you'd have ended humanity before it even began!“

Castiel scoffed. „I didn't mean to hurt it. I was just observing it's development.“

„Right on bro. We probably should have kept you away from Earth though, seeing as how you'd shown such an early predilection for that particular group of cells.“ Gabriel said, putting the bowl he'd been whisking at furiously, down on the church's oltar.

„No.“ Castiel said tersely. „I'm glad you didn't.“

„Naomi did.“ Gabriel said. „Tried to, anyway. Didn't do much good for your stubborn head.“

At the mere mention of the name, Castiel froze, and felt sudden and inexplicable pain both in his head and in his gut. But mostly, it was the leftover grace that was aroused into what resembled panic in human terms, but felt like electricity.

„Sorry. I tend to run my mouth.“ Gabriel said, sounding appropriately apologetic, but Castiel heard none of it through the rush of tremors.

„Did Naomi ever do that to you?“ Castiel managed, through a strangled intake of breath.

„No. I was too high up in the ranks. And, she didn't have to. Couldn't though, even if she'd tried.“ Gabriel said, a bit smug.

„Then do not talk to me about it.“ Castiel spat out. „Don't mention her name or what she did to me so brazenly, ever again.“

Gabriel put his hands up in mock surrender. „Okay bro, okay. Shutting up, zip it, bag it.“

Castiel wondered why he even went along with this charade. He could just attempt to end it all right then and there. Surely it didn't matter if somebody else killed him or if he killed himself, this reality would be broken either way.

Before he could do anything about that thought though, Gabriel handed him a scrap of paper, having managed to draw out a large symbol around the bowl, and said: „Read it out Cassie, and let's pray for it to work.“

Castiel read out what was written, but he didn't technically pray for anything in particular to happen. Hope of seeing his father again had been well and truly squashed a long time ago, possibly when he'd thrown Dean's amulet in the garbage can in that dinky old motel room, or when he'd finally figured out that coming back to life was no gift, rather, a curse with no purpose.

„Everything has a purpose Castiel, but I see how you would lose your sight of that.“ A voice said, and Castiel and Gabriel looked behind them.

There he was. Or a representation of Him, with no physical form to speak of other than a humanoid shaped distortion of light.

„Dad!“ Gabriel said. „Look who decided to show up for the banquet!“

„Gabriel. Castiel. I decided to come here because this will be my last involvement in any and all things.“ The voice said.

„I've influenced everything too much, and it has led to numerous disasters. I have no part to play anymore, and you must stop seeking me out. It is time to let it unfold as it will.“ 

„Bullshit.“ Gabriel spat out, to the eternal and unmovable force. „This is not even something anyone can do other than you! You're existence and it is not. We can not hope to clash with it and remain alive!“

„Gabriel, it doesn't matter what occurs and what does not. You will do what you feel you must, because that is how I've made you. And that is the only force that propels life. Other than that, it is not in yours, or even my, power to influence change.“

Gabriel grew evermore frustrated. Castiel stood in silence, but felt as if all the murky fog in his head grew stronger as a result of this event, rather than it subsiding. His father would never have shown himself to them. Metatron kept torturing him, throwing things at him Castiel wanted, but couldn't have, and events Castel feared, dreaded, and wished for all of him to escape.

„Castiel.“ The voice said. „I can not fix this for you. But trust that they don't have you. You are where you are supposed to be.“

„Cas! This is not the time to space out!“ Gabriel yelled beside him. „Dad! Please, stop being a fucktruck and help us!“

By the time Gabriel finished his sentence, their father had already vanished. How typical. Castiel watched his brother curse and damn their unfathomable father, stomping on nothing but the cold marble of the church floor.

„Stop it Gabriel. Our father can not help us. If he did, there would no longer be any point to our freedom.“ He said.

Gabriel did indeed stop in his tracks. At that moment, Castiel had already drawn his angel blade. His brother moved to step towards him.

„It's time to use our free will.“ Castiel said.

Then, he stabbed himself in the stomach.

***


	7. Chapter 7

There was nothing.

And then, there was light. 

Soon, there was also sound.

„You fucking stupid piece of shit come on!“ A muted yell.

More light, on and off. More of the similar sounds. Somebody was shaking him. He felt warmth seize him up, his vessel's eyes opening to sunlight piercing through a motel room's tacky orange curtains.  
„I swear to every damn thing known to man Cas, if you don't wake up I'll...I'll...goddamn it.“

It was Gabriel. He sounded so exhausted. A bit of sweat fell down on Castiel's forehead, and then he realize Gabriel was above him, frantic, holding his shaking hands on Castiel's stomach.

„Gabriel...“ Castiel mumbled, grimacing for the remnants of pain on his torn grace.

„Fuck.“ Gabriel huffed out. „I fucking...shit.“

Castiel got up with some difficulty, and looked around. Gabriel was right next to him, clutching his head as if he was also in pain. They were on the floor of a motel room, surrounded by pea green walls and beds that have seen better days. The smells were overwhelmingly musty and moldy.

Castiel realized, he was alive. And Gabriel was still right there next to him.

„What...“ Castiel spoke, but didn't know how to continue. He certainly felt real, and everything around him felt like it was solid, but that could only mean one thing.

„It was real Cas, you stupid fuck. It was all real. And I had to watch my brother stab himself in the gut in very realistic high quality and I swear, if you do that again, I will throttle you myself.“ Gabriel said, by way of a tense sounding explanation.

„Oh.“ Was all Castiel could say to that.

Gabriel sighed, and helped Castiel get up and lie instead on the soft bed. Gabriel said next to him.

„Okay, look. Sorry for freaking out on you like that. I stand that it was totally within my rights, but I'm still sorry for not seeing how bad you had it. Okay? So, spill. I know some things, but I gotta know what's in that scrambled head of yours so we can move on.“

„I...I thought I was somewhere else. I thought none of this was real...I just...“ Castiel said, scrambling his scrambled head for some semblance of reason. „I don't know when it started feeling like that. I knew something was wrong, but I didn't know what it was. And I...I just didn't know.“ Castiel finished lamely, trying not to reveal to his brother how close to actual tears he was.

Angels didn't cry. But, then again, he was something else, has been, for a long time now.

„Bro, fuck. I don't even know what to say. I'm looking for a smartass remark here, but I got nothing.“ Gabriel said. „Shit.“ He cursed again, shaking his head. „I didn't even know angels could get this mixed up.“

„Maybe I'm not an angel then.“ Castiel said.

„No you definitely are an angel bro, don't tell me you're gonna have another existential crisis? Are humans no longer humans if they lose a limb? Or if they become paralyzed? No. So you're an angel.“ Gabriel said, with a definite and comforting tone.  
Castiel smiled, what felt like a real smile he hadn't managed in ages. 

„I was told I wasn't. But maybe that was just a metaphor for all the angels being angry with me and wanting me out of the picture.“ Castiel said

Gabriel perked up at that. „Angels! That's my next plan Cassie. We're gonna go up to Heaven and mobilize. Have ourselves a nice army and go fight. Haven't done that in centuries.“

„Gabriel, they don't want me there.“ Castiel repeated, thinking he wasn't heard properly.

„Bro, don't sweat it. I'm here, and I'm gonna make this happen.“ Gabriel said, sounding all too confident.

Confidence was something Castiel thought he needed though, so he took it gladly.

„I don't know if I can go anywhere right now.“ Castiel said, feeling swept by a sudden physical sensation of what he'd done when he tried getting up.

„I'll go. You stay here and rest. When I get it all going, I'll come back for you.“ Gabriel said, and then, as an afterthought he said: „I promise I will come back. Try not to hurt yourself while I'm gone.“

Castiel nodded, and promised himself he would try his best. Not that trying his best had ever been good enough, but one more time. At least one more time.

***

Even though Castiel knew he was in no shape to accompany Gabriel to Heaven, and knew with even more certainty that it would all go over much better if he wasn't there, overcome by the reality of what he'd just done was weighing on him just enough to feel like being alone wasn't the best idea either.

He chastised himself on being so stupid, so very wrong. Gabriel's confusion over his condition seemed to settle within Castiel as well. He wasn't human, he really wasn't. Humans could be easily tricked by the workings of their body, their brain. But Castiel was pure energy, knowledge of centuries piled on within him. How could he have been so wrong? How could he have not known if he was somewhere else and not here?

And then, how close he came to dying, again. One would think he'd be used to it already, having died so many times. But it was never so simple. And it certainly wasn't a thing you could get used to.

Castiel thought, once again, wistfully, of the time when everything made sense, even if it wasn't always easy to see it either. He didn't want to be made to forget again, to serve without complaint, but he did wish for simplicity, if only for a short time. 

So, he realized, he would find simplicity in following his brother. Gabriel was good, fair, if a bit loud and sometimes cruel. But he was going to take Castiel as he was, and they would do this together.

Castiel was glad. Relieved. If he'd been left to do this alone, if he was the one who had to get the angels mobilized, he surely would have failed.

Like this though, with his brother by his side, he might even finally find the one thing he'd been searching for ever since he'd fallen.

Redemption.

***

There was a knock on the door.

Castiel roused from his thoughts, but did not go to the door, because he realized he had to begin exercising caution. 

„Who is it?“ He asked from within the room, to an audible sigh of the person knocking.

„It's me Clarence.“ Meg said, sounding impatient.

Castiel stoved off surprise and confusion, and got up to open the door for her. Meg was there indeed, smiling a little at him.

„There you are.“ She said. „I gotta say though, you look like hell.“

„I feel like it.“ Castiel said.

Meg shrugged, and got in, sitting on the bed closest to the entrance. Castiel closed the door and sat down at the table, next to the one window.

„I'd think so.“ Meg said. „After what your stupid ass had just done.“ Shaking her head, Meg looked at him so serious, so intent. „Castiel, how are you feeling right now?“

Castiel had no answer for her, so he just looked away, shrugging lightly.

Meg sighed again. „Oh man. Give me some Hell any day rather than a mopey angel with scrambled brains.“

„If I annoy you that much, then why are you here?“ Castiel asked tersely, feeling decidedly less malleable.

„Because, you idiot, I don't want you to hurt yourself again. And I can't believe I'm now working with two angels instead of one idiot one.“ Meg said.

„Gabriel?“ Castiel ventured a guess.

„Yes, Gabriel.“ Meg confirmed in a tense tone. „He told me to come here, make sure you weren't in a self stabby mood.“

„I'm fine.“ Castiel insisted, looking away from Meg.

„Right.“ She said. „You're such a pain in the ass Clarence.“

„You can leave if you want to. I'll be fine.“ Castiel said, sounding to himself so pathetic, he grimaced a little.

„Wouldn't dream of it.“ Meg said, and Castiel could hear her getting up, walking towards him. „Look at me.“ She said.

Castiel resisted for only a moment before he turned to her, looking up at Meg at the insistence of her soft hand cupping his jaw. She leaned down and captured his lips in a kiss. Castiel kissed back in fervor, to a sudden wash of loneliness and longing. When he started feeling tears leaking down his cheeks, he moved away, embarrassed and scared. 

Meg sat down in his lap, pulling him back towards her. „I've seen you cry before. Pathetic but...understandable. You don't have to hide them from me.“

„You're right. I am pathetic.“ Castiel said, eyes downcast on where his hands were placed lightly, albeit awkwardly, on Meg's thighs. „And I'm weak. I used to be stronger. I miss that.“

Meg rolled her eyes. „You're not pathetic because you're weak, Castiel. You're pathetic because you keep wallowing in your own misery and guilt. I've told you that before, and yet you keep at it.“

„I can't help it. I don't know how to make it stop.“ Castiel said, finally looking back at Meg. 

„So you're depressed. Fine. Who isn't? Are there some special angel anti-depressants, or are you just gonna have to suck it up and live?“ Meg asked, and Castiel could detect a tone of mockery, to which he scoffed and said: „No. Nothing like that. Angels weren't supposed to get sick like this. I'm going to have to, as you say: suck it up.“

Meg hummed. „Wanna suck something else?“ She asked, a smirk creeping up on her red lips.

Castiel huffed out a breath and smiled ever so slightly, before whisking Meg up into his arms, and flopping her down on the motel bed.

„Wait.“ Meg said, and Castiel stopped. „You sure you're up for this?“

Instead of responding, Castiel kissed her again, and tried to smile more. „It's been a while. I've missed you.“

„Aw, how sweet.“ Meg said.

***

„There was a cure.“ Castiel said, breaking the comfortable silence they'd fallen into, lying together in the small musky bed.

„Oh?“ Meg said. „Was?“ 

Castiel nodded. „Naomi. She would have made it all go away. That's where the angels would go when they got sick.“

Meg made a face. „You mean, memories, personality, even good feelings, all of that is considered „sick“?“

„Indeed. All of it.“ Castiel confirmed sadly. „I don't remember if I'd ever got to be like this, but if I was, she would have fixed me.“

„You don't want that.“ Meg stated firmly, but when she got no response, she lifted herself up slightly, leaning on her arm, so she could look at Castiel.

„Tell me you don't want that.“ She repeated.

Castiel shook his head. „In any case, she's dead. There's nobody else who would take her place. It's already bad, but it will just get worse for them.“

„Tree toppers.“ Meg spat out. „You're all so fucked up.“

„You can hardly blame them, us, Meg.“ Castiel defended. „Ages of no feelings, no memories, and now having them, freely, unabated, all at once. It's not easy.“

„Hell isn't easy.“ Meg said, offended. „Feelings are manageable.“

„Feelings are hell. And Heaven is too.“ Castiel said, and got up swiftly to dress himself, tired of talking about it.

„Well...“ Meg said, exhaling. „At least you have your brother to help you.“

Castiel finished putting his pants back on, turning to Meg. „You have me. I'm always here for you.“

„Are you?“ Meg asked, and it hurt Castiel to hear that doubt, even if he knew well enough that he'd done everything other than help her so far.

„I am. I'm here. I will be. Just say the words.“

„I love you Cassie, I need you, put your strong arms around me!“ Gabriel said, popping up behind Cas, and embracing him tightly.

Castiel grunted and pushed him away.

„Aw, that hurts my feelings.“ Gabriel said, making an exaggerated sad face. „Who knew though? My little bro and a demon. What a match.“

„You have a problem with it?“ Meg challenged, from where she was still comfortably situated in the messy bed.

„No, not at all. Heck knows Cassie needs some good old fashion mammal style lovin'.“ Gabriel said, tapping Castiel on the shoulder. „Congratulations Cassie, for this, and for becoming my fresh new number one.“

„I take it your talk with the angels was successful.“ Castiel guessed, and he guessed right.

Gabriel grinned. „You know me. Charisma through the roof. Though, not so much leadership skills. Which is where you come in.“

„Gabriel, I told you...“ Castiel began, but was interrupted by a dramatic: „Gabriel, I told you...Cas, you gotta pull those socks up and take control. I'd hate to think the only way you think you can do that is still by just...“ Gabriel's expression turned decidedly darker, and his tone serious: „You need a purpose, Cas, a goal. Something to focus on other than your misery and guilt. And I'm here to offer you that purpose. It's the best chance you got bro, to make things right.“

„Take it Clarence.“ Meg added. „Go and be useful.“

Castiel looked at her then, and wished there was an option of saying no to this. He wished he could just go with Meg, silent, and a follower. That he could keep her safe and think of nothing else.

But that wouldn't be fair. Towards her, or anyone else.

„Okay, I'll go. But, Meg, if you need me, call for me. I won't abandon you.“ Castiel said earnestly, to which Meg scoffed out a laugh.

„You're so damn sappy. I'll call, don't worry, now go with your brother.“ Meg said, and Castiel did, not without much friendly jabbing from Gabriel.

***

Castiel dreaded going back to Heaven. Angels despising him was one thing, but the echo of his screams in the chair and the pain of being unmade was so much worse. Some of the angels wore clothes that meant they were part of Naomi's team, and that alone was enough to spark unpleasant ache in Castiel's grace.

The second thing was their eyes. For once Castiel understood clearly what humans meant when they said: „If looks could kill.“ Surely, if Gabriel wasn't there to stand with him, that was exactly what would have happened to him.

„You failed to mention you'd be bringing him.“ One of Naomi's angels said.

Gabriel shrugged as if none of it was a big deal. „He's our brother. Don't you think it's time to forgive and forget?“

„None of us is ever going to forget, Gabriel. You weren't here for so long, you don't know what he's done to us.“ The angel said.

Castiel figured that angel must have been chosen to speak for all of them. Count on angels to always come up with a leader when there isn't one.

„I know what he's done.“ Gabriel said, suddenly serious. „But he has worked hard to free you all from blindly following an absent leader. Do you not want to be free?“

„Freedom is irrelevant. We were made to serve.“ The angel said.

Gabriel rolled his eyes, looking pointedly at Castiel, and then back to the angels. „Then serve me, for now. I'm the only archangel left alive and free. I outrank all of you.“

The angel didn't appear to be satisfied with that, but they did defer. „We will follow you. But we want nothing to do with him.“

„Too bad.“ Gabriel said, pointing at Castiel. „'Cause he's my number one, my right hand man, and your second in command.“

The angel looked at Castiel, and there was so much pain there, so much anger, Castiel wanted, needed, to cover from it, to run, to go, anywhere else other than there. But he couldn't leave. He couldn't be a coward. Not then.

„Why?“ The angel asked Gabriel. „Why do you force our murderer, our destroyer, on us? If you want us to be free, to not blindly follow, then you must take our concerns into consideration.“

Gabriel was going to respond, but Castiel stopped him. He took one step in front of his brother, a step that took about half the energy and all the bravery.

„I'm sorry for what I've done.“ Castiel said. „I was wrong. I was so wrong. I don't expect any of you to forgive me. But there's a bigger force at work now, something much stronger, and something that could be the end of us all. I would gladly follow you into that battle, and I will, even if...even if I'm not wanted.“

The angel looked to be in thought, and there was murmur behind them, doubtless accusations and disconcerting stares. 

„You will never be forgiven. When this battle is done, if you live, you will never be allowed back into Heaven.“ The angel said with great finality.

„Hey, hey, wait.“ Gabriel said, stepping up. „If I'm to be your leader, then how is that your decision to make?“

„It's all of our decision. Castiel must be punished, and he's yet to receive the punishment to fit the crime.“ The angel said.

„I disagree.“ Gabriel said. „He has suffered more than you will ever know. And I say he's welcome here.“

The angel didn't say anything to that, but their dissatisfaction was palpable. Castiel thought, if less disciplined, they would have throttled him right on the spot. So, he said: „I accept your punishment. I will go to battle with you and, when it's done, if I live, I will never come back here again.“

„Cas!“ Gabriel protested. „Don't be a self flagellating nun right now, please.“

Castiel took a deep breath. „I'm not being a –self flagellating nun- Gabriel, I'm simply willing to endure the punishment I deserve. There is no need for them to have to look at the being who had caused them so much harm.“

Distantly, Castiel thought of Naomi. He thought of Metatron, and he thought of Lucifer. Forced to see any of them, accept them as an inevitable part of his garrison, his team, his family, he would surely go insane with fear and anger. Gabriel seemed to see something, or sense something then, Castiel's thoughts more on the surface of his visage than he'd thought.

„Okay.“ Gabriel said softly. „For now, let's talk strategy.“

***

The darkness was unbeatable, or so it seemed. It was something beyond known life, beyond even God, for whom it was searching. Castiel thought such power could only result in chaos, however and whichever way it was turned.

But, before the battle, he had to come back to Earth. Back to Sam.

„I can't find him, Cas. I've looked everywhere, searched through all of our fail safes and all of our pseudo names.“ Sam said, sounding and looking terribly tired.

„Sam, Dean is no longer entirely himself. We have to think, where would he go, if he wasn't himself.“ Castiel said.

Sam scoffed out a laugh. „Thanks Cas. That helps narrow it down a lot.“

Castiel frowned. „It does help. He was distraught when he last saw him, he was violent. He was on the brink of succumbing to his demon self. Whom was he with when he was like that, whom he would never otherwise search out?“ 

Both Castiel and Sam knew the answer to that, and knowing did nothing to deter panic for either of them.

„Crowley.“ Sam said. „Fuck...I should've thought of that.“

„There is soon to be a battle.“ Castiel said. „But before that, we have to stop him and bring Dean back.“

Sam nodded. „Thanks Cas. Thank you for taking care of us, when you don't have to.“

Castiel smiled. „We are friends, Sam. Even if it often doesn't feel that way.“

„You know Cas, I've always believed. I've always prayed. I don't do that anymore. But, when I was younger, before, I thought I had a guardian angel. I thought everybody had one. Including Dean.“ Sam said softly, his eyes unfocused, reminiscing. „You all turned out to be more than a small child could have imagined.“

„I know I'm not the angel you thought I was.“ Castiel said. „We are all just God's soldiers, we've always done only what we were told. I wish...I wish we were guardians instead. We've lost our path.“

Sam looked up at him. „But you are different. You are a guardian Cas, despite everything that's happened. I think you are.“

Castiel smiled sadly. „I'm not. But, I think maybe that is what I want to become.“

Sam smiled back, and got up to tap Castiel on the shoulder, before pulling him into a hug. Castiel hugged back, taking small comfort in that short moment. Even if he didn't survive whatever was going to happen, at least his family should.

***


	8. Chapter 8

Meg was going to help them find Crowley. Rowena was in the wind, she said, but likely on the path to track him as well.

„It's going to be a blood bath if we all find him at the same time.“ Sam commented.

Castiel was driving them in his car towards the place Crowley was last seen. For once it wasn't in a deserted warehouse in the middle of nowhere, it was in the bustling city that never sleeps. A deserted warehouse in Kansas would have been better, Castiel mused, less people, less collateral damage.

„It will be a bloodbath either way.“ Meg said. „If I have anything to do with it. Think he's living it up in ol' New York, huh Cas? I can just imagine his smug face in a club somewhere, sipping his fruity drinks.“ 

„I've never known Crowley to be completely relaxed. But he is probably still assured in his survival. We are going to change that.“ Castiel said, feeling more determined by the second.

„I'm sure Dean's loving it too. He always wanted to visit a big city.“ Sam said, attempting not to sound completely devastated.

„I'm sure he's fine Sam. As fine as he can be anyway.“ Meg said.

Sam's leg began to bounce sometime on their fifth hour of driving. „Damn it. I wish Gabriel would have just zapped us there. This is all taking too long.“

„Gabriel can't leave Heaven, not now, and especially not for us. The angels are already on edge with me joining them, if they found out he was helping us, it would set Gabriel back in gaining their trust.“ Castiel said, and then sighed. „It's my fault, I'm sorry.“

„Aw hell, what are you sorry for now?“ Meg asked, twirling her hair as she casually flipped through some of the magazines she snatched at the gas station they'd stopped at.

„I acted horribly towards Dean. I was so blinded by my own anger that I didn't see the changes persisting in him until it was too late.“ Castiel explained, to Meg's annoyed huff. Sam, he could tell, was listening intently.

„I thought he was mocking me. I thought he was deliberately trying to hurt me. Control me. It was difficult to handle.“ Castiel said.

„Oh Cas.“ Sam said, with all the empathy in the world. „You know how Dean gets when he drinks, doubly so when he thinks we're in danger. From ourselves, or others.“

„Like that excuses him.“ Meg said, snapping her magazine closed. „He beat you Cas, within an inch of your life. He was willing to kill you when he found out you escaped with that tablet. You have every right to hate him.“

Before Sam could defend his brother, Castiel said: „More than angry, I was scared.“

Castiel had to gather his thoughts before he could continue, worrying incessantly that Meg would find him weak, and Sam would hate him in turn, for talking so badly of his brother.

„Every time I got close to the bunker, I felt scared. I couldn't stand it. And being there was even worse. The walls felt like they were caving in on me, and I thought, if I made one wrong move, Dean would...and then I began to challenge that thought, riling him up just for the sake of it, to see if he would kick me out, or hurt me. But he never did.“

„If he'd hurt you, I would kill him.“ Meg simply said and, against himself, Castiel felt relieved. He could feel her small smile, directed at him only, from behind his seat.

„I'm so sorry Cas.“ Sam finally said. „I didn't know you felt that way. I didn't think...I didn't know how much of it was getting to you.“

„It's fine Sam. I was acting immature. I was lost. But, I will do better by you, and by Dean. We are going to get him back.“ Castiel said and, for once, none of it felt like a platitude.

Instead, it felt like resolve, like strength. Like purpose.

***

New York was big. Very big. And yet it somehow managed to be incredibly crowded. Castiel found himself bumping into people, who either ignored him or rudely swore at him, in his haste to reach the bar Crowley was supposed to frequent.

„I think that's his.“ Meg said, from behind him. „I mean like, he bought it. Must be feeling pretty good about himself.“

„Let's challenge that then.“ Sam said. 

They had a plan, even if it wasn't exactly full-proof. 

The club was, if there even was an adequate word for it, decadent. It reminded Castiel of the brothel Dean had once taken him to, rather than an actual club. Not that he would know what a standard club looked like.

The lights inside were blue, but they ever so often shifted and blurred into red. The music was a loud, overpowering, metallic rhythm, that felt encompassing to the bodies of the dancers on the vast expanse of the floor in the middle.

Flashing lights hurt Castiel's eyes, so he averted them to the tables they were surrounded by, placed neatly beside the dark walls. Sitting at one of those tables, the very last one, near what had to be either the exit or an entrance to a different room, was Dean. He sat surrounded by beautiful women and men alike, moving animatedly, surely charming as always, to whatever they'd been talking about.

„Sam.“ Castiel said, dragging Sam to where he was standing, so he could see it for himself.

Sam's eye's locked with Dean's, and Dean's lips turned into a smirk. He got up, to the protest of his peers, and beckoned for them to follow him towards the room Castiel's had previously taken note of.

Once they were inside, Dean locked the door. The room was small, had beige walls, a desk, a sofa, a locker like closet, and one solitary window. Castiel fought the urge to panic, reminding himself of the air existing in the room, always, even with the three of them locked inside.

„You two won't give up on me unless I kill you.“ Dean stated, even sounding regretful, as he sat down at, what was presumably, his desk.

„Dean, please.“ Sam said. „You've fought this off before, you can do so now.“

Dean shook his head. „I never have Sammy. It has burrowed in me, even through rebirth, and stayed there. This angel, he could do nothing to remove it, even as he restored my body.“

„You're wrong.“ Castiel said. „I've seen your soul. And I mended your body. It was just you.“

„You didn't see it Cas. But I have. Every time I looked into a mirror, I could see it clearly. Every time I killed, I could feel it. Soul or not, a mended body or not, this isn't something you can just reset.“ Dean said. „Cain's mark was only meant for me, it could only be transferred to me. Why did you think that was?“

„Dean.“ Castiel said, with all the emotion he could possibly infuse in that one name that had always meant so much, unbearable, and heavy.

„Castiel.“ Dean said his name, throwing all of that back onto him. Again, looking at him as he always had, with those same familiar green eyes behind which, there was nothing left and yet, Castiel got captured once again.

„It's fine Cas.“ Dean finally said. „It's all going to be over soon anyway.“

„What do you mean?“ Sam interjected with all the urgency.

„I know you came here to kill Crowley. But, you don't have to bother. We are all going to disappear soon, as we probably should have already.“ Dean said, explaining nothing.

Dean realized it soon enough, so he said: „Crowley doesn't know. He expects the angels he's working with to defeat the Darkness without him lifting a finger. But they won't succeed. The Darkness will unite with God and end the world.“

Sam's eyes widened, and he looked helplessly at Dean and then at Castiel. 

„We might lose, that much is true.“ Castiel said, as an answer to Sam's silent plea. „But how is Crowley involved with the angels? Which ones?“

Dean smiled a snake like half-smirk. „I don't know. And it seems you don't either. Interesting. As I said though, it doesn't matter. It will all soon be over. You want that Cas, don't you? Sam? All three of us are ready to die, have been, for a while now.“

„I thought you wanted to keep us safe. You said so yourself.“ Sam said, frustrated. „And now you're just giving up?“

Dean shrugged. „I did. I wanted to. When I was more myself. I was stupid. I thought I could end this myself, get rid of all this nasty bullshit, and die knowing you two would be okay. I guess, like this, in a way, we will be. There will be nothing left of us, or anything else, to feel bad about.“

„So you're just giving up.“ Sam said, with accusation and venom. „After all we've been through? Again, you're just giving up. I can't believe you.“

Dean didn't respond to that. His expression was blank, so much so Castiel would have thought he'd been frozen in spot, that it had already begun. His green eyes were so dull as they stared into nothing.

Sam moved beside him, going up to Dean, kneeling down, to be on his level. „Please, Dean, look at me.“

In a split second, Dean's hands were clutching Sam's head. „I could kill your right now. Snap your neck. Don't make me do it.“

„Dean, please.“ Sam begged some more, while Castiel stood rooted in place, afraid that any and all action he'd take would result in that neck snapping.

„You won't kill me.“ Sam said. „You never could. Even when I was...even when I wasn't me, you did all you could to save me. Let me do the same for you.“

„You aren't listening to me.“ Dean said, removing his hands from Sam. „It's over. We've lost.“

To this, he looked at Castiel. „How about we imbibe some alcohol. Wait for the inevitable blast wave?“

Castiel sighed and rolled his eyes. „You know there is nothing I would rather do than have a drink with you Dean, but we have work to do and if you aren't going to help us then you might as well stay here and wait for the end by yourself.“

Castiel could plainly see Sam disagreed with his statement. Dean, for his part, just laughed. „Oh, if there was a chance me or either of you were ending up anywhere after this, I'd say I'll miss your sense of humor.“ He licked his lips and relaxed into his chair. „Besides, I know you haven't come here for my help. You're distracting me while Meg deals with Crowley. Are you sure you should be leaving her alone Castiel? She might die. No, she most likely will die.“

Sharp pain and nausea hit Castiel then, and he knew Dean was right. Of course he was right. They were already supposed to be there, helping her. This was all taking much too long.

„You know what?“ Dean said, suddenly perking up. „I'll go with you. I was only here in the first place to have some fun before we all die, but I think there's nothing more fun than watching that sack of shit die.“

„You're going to help us?“ Sam asked, sounding all too naively hopeful.

Dean shrugged and got up from his chair. „As I said, we're looking at an end to all things, I might as well. But, Sammy, don't expect me to go to battle with you after all this is done.“

„Dean...“ Sam began, but something in him choked up. „Why?“ He managed. „There's still hope. There's still choice.“

„I can't, Sam. I can't go with you. You'll see why soon enough.“ Was all Dean said before he moved towards the door, unlocked it, and went out.

All Sam and Castiel could do at that point, was to follow.

***

The room they went to was outside of the club, up the outside stretch of metal stairway, on the first floor. They could hear rumbling and falling furniture even before they'd fully climbed the stairs.

Castiel ran and entered the room just as Crowley was about to stab Meg in the guts with his angel blade. 

„Stop!“ Castiel yelled and rushed Crowley with all the strength he could muster.

They ended up tangled on the floor and Castiel could see from the corner of his eye, Sam helping Meg get up. She cursed, but Castiel had no time to go to her because Crowley had punched him in the gut, sneding him tumbling over on his side while Crowley attempted to crawl away and up. Before he could do that though, Dean stomped on the small of his back with his boot.

„Dean...“ Crowley grunted out. „What in the hell's name are you doing?“

„You're a bigger fool than I'd thought if you ever honestly believed we were friends. You're a scum Crowley and I want to see you die.“ Dean said.

Before Crowley could even react to that, Castiel threw the blade Gabriel had given them to Dean who promptly stabbed Crowley in the back with it.

„You bloody little...“ Was all Crowley managed to say before he burned from the inside out, leaving parts of charred clothes on a pile of his ashes.

„Fuck.“ Meg said. „I wanted to kill him.“

„Be fucking grateful someone did.“ Dean responded, putting the blade in his boot, rather than giving it back to Castiel. 

„Dean...“ Castiel said, raising his hands in mock defense, sensing they weren't done here just yet.

„What, Cas?“ Dean spat out, hands wide and relaxed, turning to him. „Want me to let you go?“

Castiel resolved to say nothing. Instead, he moved in front of Meg and Sam to reach Dean first, in an attempt to shield them with his body. Sam said something from behind him, but all Castiel could see and hear was Dean, eyes black, advancing in on him.

They met in the middle of the room, close, much too close. Castiel could feel Dean's breath on his face as he said: „What's the matter Cas? You look like you can't breathe.“

„Leave them alone.“ Castiel said, in a hushed and strained whisper.

Dean smiled. „A sacrificial lamb, is that what you are?“

„We all will be, unless you let us go.“ Castiel said.

Dean shrugged, looking up and then back down at Castiel. „I thought we might stay here, have some fun together. Would that not be better than you running off to fight an impossible battle?“

Dean's hands were open, but Castiel could easily see them closing into fists. Sharp pain settled in his borrowed skin, feeling it again as thought it was happening right then and there. Castiel had to remind himself he was stronger, he could subdue him, if he allowed himself to hurt Dean.

He couldn't. Castiel stepped away, head bowed. That was one thing that hurt more than anything Dean could inflict upon him. He felt his anger ebb away in face of exhaustion. And loneliness.

He missed Dean. He missed him so much.

Castiel was so weak.

„I don't want to hurt you Dean.“ Castiel said, to which Dean laughed.

„Never stopped you before.“ Dean said, cutting right where he knew it would bring Castiel down on his knees.

„Do whatever you want with me. Just let them go. Let them fight. We can wait it out here, together.“ Castiel made an offer, as genuine as he felt he could be.

Dean hummed. „I don't know. You sure you could entertain me by yourself?“

„Castiel, don't.“ Meg said, from somewhere behind him. „We can take him down.“

Dean focused his attention on her then, so Castiel placed his hand on Dean's jaw and pulled him into a kiss. Meg would probably never forgive him, but at least she might stay alive. 

„Holy shit.“ Sam said, uncomprehending.

Dean broke off the kiss gently. „They can go.“ He said.

Except, neither Sam nor Meg would budge. Castiel stayed hidden behind Dean, as Dean quieted down their protests, pushing them away and out the door with an unseen force. The doors closed and locked.

Soon, there was banging on the door, Sam's voice the loudest.

„I'll make them go away.“ Castiel said. Dean nodded his assent, so Castiel went, as close to the door as possible, and whispered.

***

„What did you tell them?“ Dean asked, once Castiel had joined him on the run down couch on the right side of the room.

„Does it matter?“ Castiel asked, to which Dean shrugged again.

„I'll get it out of you soon enough.“ He said.

Castiel fought a shiver threatening to run through him at the words he believed unquestionably. Dean was no longer Dean, if he ever was. Whatever was left of their friendship was gone, and all that was left was whatever Dean thought Castiel could give.

„Get up and clean those ashes.“ Dean suddenly said. „They're dirtying up the room.“

The room was dirty enough as it was, Castiel thought. Any apprehension Castiel felt about being ordered around vanished, as he remembered he was supposed to wait and distract Dean while he was there.

So he went and cleaned the ashes, grimacing all the way, and dumped them into the nearby trash can located behind a counter in a small makeshift kitchenette.

„Do you like taking orders, Cas?“ Dean asked, from where he was still relaxing on the dusty old sofa.

„No I don't.“ Castiel said.

„Don't lie to me.“ Dean said, stern, commanding.

Castiel froze in place, gritting his teeth. He had to remember to breathe. „Fine.“ He finally managed. „I liked taking orders. I like not having to think. Especially so because every single action I've undertaken by myself has ended in a disaster.“

„It's cute how you think it's all your fault.“ Dean said. „And, I mean, it is, partly. But evil is as evil does and, coming from evil, we like to manipulate and destroy. You were used Cas, by all of them. Your only fault lies in allowing to be fooled by people you thought were good.“

„You aren't evil, Dean.“ Castiel said.

Dean hummed, relaxing further into the sofa. „I guess that's a matter of perspective. Come here.“ He said, beckoning.

Castiel swallowed thickly, feeling all too well the palpable tension rousing in the dusty metallic smelling room.

When Castiel came up to the sofa, standing above Dean, the man looked at him, eyes back to the familiar green. „Do you want to stop thinking?“ He asked. „Do you want me to make it stop?“

Castiel knew exactly what he wanted at that moment. „I don't. I don't want to be a coward. I don't want escape. I don't deserve one.“

Finally, he said: „I miss you, Dean. We were friends once, good friends. You woke me up from a nightmare of servitude. You reminded me of the empathy I once felt. You showed me I could make choices, and be free. All of that, even if I didn't do a good job of it, is more precious to me than anything else.“

Dean's eyes felt brighter, more open, as he said it. He even smiled up at Castiel, and Castiel dared hope, naive as it was, that he'd managed to do the same for Dean.

But then, Dean's expression darkened, he snatched Castiel's arm, gripping him tight over the shirt he'd borrowed from Sam, and pushed him down until Dean was on top of him, an echo of the past.

„You're so stupid Cas, so fucking stupid.“ Dean spat out, clutching tightly still, at Castiel's wrists. „I've given you nothing. I sucker punched you out of Heaven, tied you to me, to this shithole of a world. And then, every chance I got, I abandoned you. I failed you.“

Castiel grimaced, trying and failing to get out of Dean's grip. „You're wrong.“ He said, to which Dean shook his head, frustrated.

„You were never even second best for me, Cas. Sam was the only one I cared about, the only one I would truly have given my life for. That's it. And Sam is the same, even if he says he isn't, that he cares about you. That you are his friend. You were, and are, nothing to us.“ 

„You're lying.“ Castiel rasped out. „I know...I know I'm not a hunter, or human, or part of your family. But we were, we are, friends.“

„Winchesters don't have friends, Cas. And all their family is dead.“ Dean said and then, snarling, he pressed his lips to Castiel's. Castiel moaned beneath him, struggling to keep his mouth closed.

„I'll give you a choice right now though.“ Dean said, pulling up. „Entertain me, or I will kill you.“

Castiel debated attempting to punch Dean right then, if only so he could get away. But Dean's grip on his wrists was strong, so strong. Castiel had miscalculated his strength. And, there was nowhere to go, it still wasn't time.

„Please Dean...“ He tried. „Let me go.“

Dean didn't let go. Instead, he covered Castiel's body with his own, enveloping him in a terrible claustrophobic grip. One of his hands trailed down Castiel's chest and farther still.

Castiel's head swam, half from unbearable tension and fear, half from complete incomprehension. Dean took his time, exploring, touching. Castiel fought back, as hard as he could, against Dean's movements, against him flaying him raw and open.

Castiel never put Dean into a solid perspective. Who was he to him, other than a friend? Sadly, Castiel figured, he'd wasted his time, and now he would never know.

It was already too late.

***

Dean left Castiel lying on the sofa with only Sam's plaid shirt for cover, as he went and got himself a drink.

Castiel could never remember being bothered by his nudity up until that moment. He felt supremely vulnerable and incredibly worn out. He could hear Dean pouring his drink, and felt himself getting sick.

„If you're gonna vomit, do it in the bathroom.“ Dean said dismissively.

Castiel grit his teeth and resolved to get up and attempt to do just that, but his legs wouldn't carry him. He had nothing to puke out anyway. Angels didn't eat.

„You're no fun Cas, moping on that sofa. Come have a drink with me.“ Dean said, from where he was staring at Castiel, amused.

Fighting his wobbling legs and his upset stomach, Castiel got up, deciding at the last second to shake off Sam's shirt. It was small defiance, and it did him no favors, but the shirt smelled unpleasantly like both Dean and the musky scent of his own sweat.

„Good. You don't need clothes anyway. Angels don't get cold, do they?“ Dean said, unbearably pleased.

Castiel sat down on one of the bar stools and accepted the drink Dean handed to him. Castiel noted it was whiskey, Dean's usual drink of choice, but this one looked to be more expensive than anything he'd so far seen him consume.

„Crowley liked to live it up. The only thing about him that wasn't a complete waste of space.“ Dean explained, lifting his glass up. „Cheers.“ 

There was nothing to say to that. Crowley was dead. They'd accomplished one part of their mission. Castiel was glad. As long as they managed to subdue The Darkness, Meg should be safe, no more of her enemies in sight. He didn't bother lifting his glass up to cheer, he simply downed it all in one go.

Dean poured him another. „Drink.“ He said. „It's gonna get you drunk. Crowley made it special, so even we could find some use in it.“

Castiel pushed the glass away. Dean pushed it back to him. „Drink.“ He ordered.

Castiel shook his head. Dean clicked his tongue. „Fine. Have it your way. It's not gonna make any of this more bearable for you if you're sober.“

„What else is there you could possibly do to me?“ Castiel snapped. „I get it. Dean and I aren't friends, we never were. Your intent is to destroy me for your own pleasure. It's not going to work.“

Dean smiled. „Of course it will. It's already working. It's been working from the moment I beat you to near death and let you live.“

Castiel didn't say anything. He took the drink and downed it all. He took another, and another. Dean kept smiling, pouring them more. 

„You know, I got a distinct feeling that you were feeling a bit better when you came here.“ Dean said, relentless in his sweet tone of mockery. „I assume you figured you'd get Dean back and kill Crowley all in one go. Of course, you must have known that would only be the best case scenario. But still, it probably gave you some hope. For a moment there, you might have even wanted to live to see yourself win this battle. And us, together again.“

Castiel looked away at that, shame coloring his vessel's cheeks.

„Of course you did. No smarter than before in your naivety. Sam probably thought the same, so don't feel too bad about it. You're not the only idiot here.“ Dean said, downing another drink.

Castiel looked down on himself, summoning memories that couldn't have been wrong. „Dean. Used to be the sound of that name was the only thing I needed to feel that naive. That hopeful. You did manage to destroy that. I guess I should congratulate you.“

„No need.“ Dean said. „As I said, not you or me will be alive long enough to drown too much in that particular brand of regret.“

„So you regret what you've done.“ Castiel said, tentatively looking up, only to see Dean grinning at him, those awful black eyes back on to remind Castiel whom he was actually talking to.

„I don't regret a thing. Maybe Dean would. But I've had my fun.“

Minutes that seemed like hours, ages even, later, Castiel was drunk. He hadn't managed to get drunk in a while, so he didn't know what to do with himself, the sensations as foreign then as they had been the first time.

„Come here.“ Dean ordered from somewhere behind him.

Castiel wobbled over to where he thought he'd heard the voice from. Dean was leaning on one of the windows, looking out.

„See? It's all going down. The battle has begun, and nobody has come to get you, including your brother.“ Dean said, and Castiel looked out.

The sky could no longer be described in human terms. Only vestiges of buildings remained, as thunder roared all around them. Castiel felt overwhelming pain, in his gut, his heart, and his grace. Gabriel hadn't come. Which meant, Meg and Sam had failed.

„Don't be sad.“ Dean said, throwing his arm around Castiel. „We'll go into non-existence together. Isn't that what you would have wanted? To die with Dean by your side.“

„I would never wish for Dean to die.“ Castiel struggled to say, feeling his eyes watering. „I wouldn't wish for him to die, even if I was with him to guide him through it. And I don't wish for it even now. I don't want anyone to die before their time.“

Dean hummed. „What a diplomatic answer Cas. Good for you.“

„I wish...“ Castiel began, choking on his own spit, choking on the water leaking from his vessel's eyes. „I want this world to continue existing. I know it's just one of many, and it's not important, to you, or to God. But there has to be a purpose, there has to be something. A meaning. It can't all just disappear.“

„It can. And it will.“ Dean said, just as the roaring thunder echoed greater than ever, and Castiel felt the presence next to him was gone.

„Cas!“ Somebody called for him.

Castiel, entranced by the impossible sight before him, turned around carefully only to find Gabriel standing there, looking worse for wear, but alive.

„Cas, fuck.“ Gabriel said, running up to him. When he tried for a hug, Castiel moved away. Gabriel frowned, but didn't question him.

Instead, he said: „I'm sorry I'm late. The battle has begun Cas, we need you.“

And so, Castiel went. With his damaged wings, and his diminished grace, he crawled out of his vessel, the body he stole from a human accountant Jimmy Novak. A body he had mangled and abused as thought it wasn't one of the most sacred offerings a human could have given him.

Castiel left it behind, limp, all the sluggishness of the whiskey he had drank settled there, and the harm that had been done to it.

He followed his brother into the crackling lighting and thunder up above.

For so long, Castiel had been rooted to the dirt and stone of his beloved planet. He'd experienced hunger, pain, love, and many more things. Smells and taste, touch, and the undeniable comfort and discomfort of physicality.

But, for even longer, Castiel hadn't felt this. Back to back with his kind, fighting in unison, as though they had never been separated. As though Castiel had never abandoned them, destroyed them, betrayed them.

Dying like this, now perhaps that could also be his wish.

***


End file.
